Lie Like You Mean It
by Mthaytr
Summary: The line between black and white fades as Axel, a morally questionable assassin with an aversion to truth in all its many forms, finds Roxas, and betrayal is the least of the evils committed in service of the ultimate good. AkuRoku
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The city of Chicago at the turn of the century was more alike to a coiled spring than to an urban center, carved in steel as it was against a backdrop of factory smoke and the reek of the stockyard butcheries. The underlying pressure of every moment was invisible, to an untrained eye - but the class tensions and racial tensions that were brought to light by the industrial revolution were only made worse by the shadow of coming war in the Old World. With such diverse inhabitants, conflict was inevitable - but it boiled under the surface, manifesting itself in silent murders and rampant corruption within the police force rather than riots, which were visible and therefore undesirable.

This is, of course, not to say that the inhabitants of the city dwelled on such things - they went about their daily lives with a long-suffering, unexceptional determination. Their lives were laid out for them already, by men who valued power more than life.

But as always, there were men who didn't fit either role - neither the determined nor their oppressors; men who worked only for themselves and their own purposes. And among those, born by luck into the time which suited him best, drifted a man named Axel.

He was an assassin, man with a talent for manipulation and subtlety - though everything about him would seem to imply the exact opposite. He stood at an impressive six feet - monstrous in those days - with a shock of long red hair that he spiked and slicked back in such a way that he appeared a good six inches taller than he actually was. Adding to the intimidating air was a penchant for black leather - always perfectly fitted, he had the money to do so - and a grin that almost never left his face.

He smirked because he knew it made people uncomfortable, and they were uncomfortable because it silently promised suffering of the worst variety.

It couldn't be said, however, that he was particularly notorious - in his line of work, the more people knew about you, the easier it was to kill you - but he was met with an immense respect bordering on fear by both those of his same occupation and his many employers. He had few outright enemies, because Axel was _never_ careless enough to let a hit he performed be pinned on him, but no one turned their back to him either - which was probably, all things considered, wise of them.

He killed quietly, he killed quickly - and he had absolutely no moral compunctions about any of it, which made him perfect for the purposes of organized crime. Organized crime, in this case, was synonymous with a group called the Syndicate, Xemnas's Syndicate, or just "those bastards."

Axel had always preferred the latter.

Xemnas was the big badass motherfucker who ran the whole city, to put it simply. At least, that was what the guy wanted everyone to think; but Axel had worked for him a couple of times - alright, a hell of a lot - and thought of him more as a crazy bastard than as badass.

But, crazy or not, when any of the Syndicate's many peons called him, he came - he was never one to refuse a paying job, not with gambling debts stacked high and a penchant for anything with alcohol. So the morning of a piercingly cold winter's day found him wandering the slums, shuffling his black-booted feet through the murky water as he trudged along to the building at which he'd been told to meet his employers.

Despite the fact that he'd lived there once, the assassin had no fondness for the slums and their layered tenements, reeking from refuse and disease. Unsurprisingly, he had very little respect for any group that chose to headquarter in that area - clearly, they were either idiots or there for the purpose of some other agenda. The latter was likely the case - because, quite frankly, any group that headquartered in the slums due to necessity wouldn't be able to afford his fees or those of anybody else worth their while.

Thinking about it, their questionable location probably had something to do with the purpose of this mob's creation - they were led by a man named Xaldin, who nobody really wanted to take on in a fistfight but wasn't exactly renowned for his intelligence. Said asshole had been part of Xemnas's syndicate not two months back, but he'd apparently been detached to create his own. Nobody but the very upper echelons was supposed to be aware of it, but the Superior - as they called him - had been instructing some of his more capable men to create their own little mobs.

They wouldn't be competition, of course, but just a better way for Xemnas to control what every single person in the whole fucking city breathed and drank. It was actually pretty intelligent for the mad-eyed son of a bitch.

But as long as they could afford to pay him, they could headquarter wherever the hell they liked. It didn't, of course, mean that he wasn't going to be an asshole to them about it - but he wasn't about to turn them away, either. Besides, the guy was probably an idiot - and the stupider someone was, the easier they were to manipulate.

Axel defined an idiot as someone who couldn't keep up with him. Not many people could.

Xaldin's headquarters was far enough away that the redhead had just about finished his cigarette by the time he reached the front doors, so he took one last drag before letting it fall on the sidewalk, not even bothering to put it out with his heel. The building was an old-tenement house, most likely - though it had been refurbished somewhat since then, it still stank of cholera.

The guards, lounging on the stair in front of the doorway, weren't much better - maybe the slum was the perfect place for these jackasses. So, he only approached until he was about seven or eight feet away, where he could see the nervous expressions on their faces and hopefully not catch gonorrhea.

Both of the men straightened up upon Axel's approach - as well they should have. The redhead knew that nobody could mistake whether he belonged in their world or not - it was obvious that he did, through his motions and his manner even if they couldn't see the gun at his hip.

The unknown factor was whether the assassin was there to take a job or to kill them all - on any given day, it could be either, and the men were quite aware of that fact. That sort of uncertainty was bound to make a person nervous - and the redhead did everything he could to encourage it.

He liked watching the fear on their faces.

"Yo," he drawled by way of greeting, grinning ferociously and topping the expression off with a two-fingered salute. This did little to ease the nervous looks on their faces, but it had never been intended to. "I'm here for a job. Xaldin's request - you'd better let me in before I haveta make you."

One of the door guards rustled up the guts to stand straight and look Axel halfway in the eye, before stuttering: "Sir, I have not been informed of…"

"Shut the fuck up," Axel responded, more than a bit amused by the guy's guts. "Of course you haven't," he continued, expressive hands waving for emphasis, "Nobody tells dumbasses like you anything if they can help it. You can send somebody up if you want - but just so you know, if I was coming to kill your boss I'd do it a hell of a lot more subtly," he drawled, leonine grin never fading as his sharply amused gaze flickered from one man to the other.

This was a lie - but then most of the words that came out of his mouth were. It was true that normally, he went for the subtle approach; but at some point, he was gonna assassinate the leader of some massive organization just by walking in the front door and walking out again the same way.

Just to see if he could, and all.

The little rat he'd been speaking to scrambled up the stairs and through the door - presumably to get info from someone higher up the food chain than the kid himself was - and then scrambled right back down again, looking flushed and vaguely frantic.

"I'm sorry, very sorry, sir - I've been informed that -"

"Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up already?" Axel remarked with a foreboding laugh, staring the man down as he walked forward and then past, apparently forgetting about the nobody in half a second.

_Holy fuck, _he thought to himself as he watched the nervous expressions of the people around him,_ I wouldn't trade this job for anything._

_***~*~***_

"But Zexion, you said you'd be here for tonight," complained Demyx petulantly from across the room, shaking his head in disbelief. He was dressed in the navy suit he used for auditions only again, looking pleadingly enticing in the way that the blonde had mastered, and was uncomfortably effective even on the normally dispassionate Zexion.

This time, though, he couldn't really afford to give in - he felt a twinge of guilt at his lover's disappointed face, but steeled himself. Zexion was an assassin by trade and by choice, and the profession suited him. When an assassin was approached by the leader of the most powerful syndicate in Chicago, perhaps in the country, they did not turn that job down. Doing so would be hurtful to that assassin's career prospects, at best - Xemnas's reach was far, and long.

"I'm sorry, something came up," Zexion responded firmly, never giving his lover an indication of his momentary regret. If he relented even a bit, Demyx had this disturbing ability to be able to talk him even further out of things that really needed to be done.

"…We were going to go out tonight, though," the blonde pointed out with a glint of what sounded like real disappointment. Some instinct told Zexion that perhaps he ought to listen to his lover, but he dismissed the feeling - after all, if he gave in to his lover's every whim, neither of them would be much able to support themselves at all.

"I have a job to do, Demyx," he responded quietly, running a hand through his slate-grey hair to avoid looking at his lover's face. "If I didn't do my job, you wouldn't have enough money to afford performance as your career. We would not be able to do anything at all," Zexion noted.

Perhaps the statement was needlessly cold, but it was nonetheless true; Demyx was a nightclub pianist, and extraordinarily good at what he did. However, careers in the arts did not, as a rule, pay well - and even if he had been Beethoven, he still would have been stuck eating stew for the rest of his life. This could not be blamed entirely on the circumstances - Demyx lacked the ambition and the ruthlessness it took to make it anywhere in that city, and it was fatal to the growth of his career.

The attitude was understandable, however - the blonde had grown up as a child of privilege and wealth, and had never yet done a day of work in his life when Zexion met him. The situation was only made worse when the two men fell in love - this was hardly a choice situation for the heir of a powerful corporation, and so they disowned him. Hence, he'd been left with a rich kid's sensibilities and innocence but without the protective blanket that wealth gave. Out of necessity, he got a job doing the only work that he could do - performing - but that was a hard life, even for the best of the best.

"I know you have a job to do," Demyx returned, eyes pleading with a look more pitiful than he felt. "But you promised." With anyone else, Zexion would have become quietly annoyed at this point - but aside from the fact that it was his lover speaking, he knew that the blonde's objection was mostly justified - Zexion had, indeed, promised. Then, there were the issues about the nature of the assassin's work.

Demyx had never been extraordinarily thrilled about what, precisely, his lover did for a living - the blonde was still a kind and lighthearted individual despite the unforgiving path upon which life had taken him.

But Zexion wouldn't stop, just for that. Assassination was where the man's unique talents could make him the most profit - and he himself had no issue with taking others' lives. The two lovers had worked it out, enough for their relationship still to function, but that didn't mean it wasn't sometimes still a problem between them.

There was a long silence as Zexion went over possible responses to Demyx's earlier plea - he wasn't eager to upset either the blonde or his crazy-eyed employer, and so a compromise would need to be made.

"…Alright, then" he relented finally, "I'll go see the man I'm reporting to now, and let him know that my preparations will take a little bit more time. I'll be gone tomorrow, however, if I put off this job. Are you alright with that?" The next day would be one of Demyx's concerts, and the blonde liked for his lover to be there for them. Sometimes Zexion just couldn't make it for one reason or another, and this would seem to be one of those instances

Demyx sighed on hearing that, giving Zexion a small pout.

"Sometimes you working nights can be so annoying," he mumbled as he sat down on their too-plush burgundy couch, clearly not intending for his words to be any kind of accusation, but just a complaint.

"I'm sorry," Zexion said, and meant it as much as he could. He would not give up his work, but neither would he throw his lover to the wayside.

"Eh, I'll live. Just go convince your boss that you desperately need tonight because you're hopelessly in love with me," he responded with a little smirk that made Zexion's stomach tighten. "And then I'll have a present for you when you get home."

Zexion raised an eyebrow.

"Will I like the gift?" he asked carefully, though he was fairly certain he knew what the other man had in mind.

He definitely liked the expression on his lover's face in that moment.

"Undoubtedly."

It didn't take much to brighten Zexion's day, really.

*~*~*

Although the people around him all seemed to be hopelessly inept, there was amusement to be found in their antics. Also, in the grays and blues of Xaldin's amusingly crappy interior decoration - who did they get to do that shit, anyway? - Axel's burning red hair stood out like a beacon from hell.

Fuck yes.

Also adding to the assassin's good mood was the fact that this Xaldin, also, seemed to be a complete, incompetent idiot.

Axel wasn't ever very good at dealing with idiots, though he did like to play poker with them. They tended to be so much easier to manipulate.

"So what d'ya want?" he asked uninterestedly - this was more to make a point than because he really didn't care. He scratched his head just to emphasize the extent of his apathy, but the expression broke into a grin as he watched a few of the men in front of him broke into cold sweats.

Man, they got scared so easily - though, to be fair, the fact that Axel was holding a gun in that same hand didn't hurt anything, either. Gotta keep people on their toes - and waving weaponry around carelessly tended to make people nervous.

The boss didn't look very pleased, to say the least - which was, of course, the intention - and Axel's smirk grew.

"You are Axel of the Organization, then?" Xaldin asked, ridiculous dreadlocks hanging limply down his back. Unattractive, at best - the redhead wasn't particularly fond of the facial hair, either. The stuff was ok on some people, if they knew what they were doing - but clearly this man didn't. He apparently didn't know what he was doing with regards to much of anything.

"Sometimes," he replied with amusement. It was his standing policy never go give a straight answer if a crooked one would suffice - but that one was mostly true, even if it was enigmatic and confusing for his employers. The Organization was a loosely hierarchical group of assassins that got together under one leader so that they could get jobs and still remain anonymous, though word still got out about the better ones. It was more or less a guild - and people could come and leave as they chose.

However, Axel himself was a freelance assassin, though he did get his most solid employment through the Organization. He got enough requests by name - or, generally, by one of his many pseudonyms - that going through the Organization could be sometimes counterproductive.

Also, the idea of actually having to obey someone's orders - especially the orders of the current leader, Marluxia - was distinctly unappealing. Axel liked being able to do whatever the hell he wanted, regardless of anyone else. He tended to be exceptionally good at avoiding the consequences.

"So, then," Xaldin rumbled after a moment, "I assume you have come because you accepted our offer."

"Uh, no. I've come to see if you're worth my while," Axel smirked. Seriously, this guy was an idiot. The redhead refused to give him any leeway just because the other man was new at this - if Xaldin didn't know what he was doing, Xemnas should never have promoted him.

The dreadlocked man took the insult mostly in stride, though - he didn't respond, although his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"I want you to target a man named Lexaeus," he explained in his deep, rumbling voice. "He runs one of the biggest finance companies right now-"

Axel interrupted smoothly, unable to stand being lied to when it was over something so utterly stupid.

"Cut the crap, man. I know he runs another one of Xemnas's little shoot-off organizations, and I know him personally. How much are you gonna fork over?" Personal connections, even vague friendships, weren't about to get in the way of doing his job. Lexaeus had helped Axel get started as an assassin, and the redhead still felt some lingering respect for a man who had once been one of the best in the business.

But there tended to come a time when the student surpassed the teacher, and Axel knew that he'd gotten better than his instructor a good long time ago.

"Five thousand," responded Xaldin in that same rough bass.

Axel was silently impressed by the offer, but didn't indicate it outwardly - it was never good to let others see your hand or your interest. Instead, he gave his employer a deadly stare, as if that wasn't nearly enough. That was at least double what the assassin made for a normal hit, and Xaldin didn't even seem to realize it. Hey, if the guy was so interested in throwing away money, Axel wasn't going to stand in his way.

Idiot had probably never hired another hitman before.

"Do you really think that a couple thousand is enough to hire a guy like _me_?" he asked with a feigned incredulousness, pistol glinting in his right hand as a less than subtle reminder of who, precisely, was in control of this situation. He watched the other man blanch ever so slightly, and his hand dug into the armrest of the chair he was using so tightly that the large gold ring on his middle finger looked like it might be cutting into his skin.

Xaldin's expression was growing less and less friendly by the minute, though that didn't intimidate Axel any.

"How much do you normally get for a hit like this?"

"Ten thousand at a minimum. Lexaeus used to be one of the best in the business," he lied with a straight face.

The other's face darkened.

"You shouldn't mess with me, kid."

Axel didn't respond, only grinned - anything he could say to that would either be inexcusably cliché or get him in more shit than he was looking for just then.

"Six thousand," Xaldin spat, "Or I'm kicking you out and getting someone who knows his place." His black dreadlocks gleamed in the electric light, and his voice was beginning to take on a growling quality. It was amusing as all hell.

"Listen to me, man - in Chicago in this day and age, you're not gonna find any more hires more amicable than myself," he drawled, never losing the smirk and making a wide motion with his hands that was meant to seem magnanimous. It probably succeeded in looking vaguely mocking, but Axel didn't really give a damn. "I won't go for less than nine thousand."

"Seven."

"Eight."

There was a pause.

"Deal, but if you don't deliver, I'll see that you never work again."

That made Axel laugh, a sound that was almost as much threatening as it was thoroughly amused.

He always delivered. That shouldn't even be a question, by this point.

*~*~*

When he was finally escorted out of Xaldin's over-protected safe-room with the click and creak of metal doors closing, Axel was met by a man in a smart suit on the other side who gave him an appraising and vaguely condescending glance. The redhead put his hands up in the air and shrugged to show that he was unarmed - of course, he wasn't; his gun was in a hidden holster at his back - and followed in the direction that the man began to lead.

"He's paying you half beforehand?" the man asked briskly, sounding professional even if his employer wasn't.

"Sure thing. Standard procedure," the assassin responded derisively - that's always the way these things worked. The fact that the suited man even had to ask really said something about this place.

They were at what looked like a vault within minutes, the redhead following silently behind the other man as they passed the two guards at the first door. That's when the guy made his first mistake - he closed the door, effectively blocking his route of escape and also the path through which any help would come.

"I will be back in a moment with your payment, sir," he stated politely, giving a little unassuming bow. Perfect timing.

"Actually," Axel began as his gun found its way, lightning-fast, into his hand, "You're not. You're going to take me there, and you're going to give me the whole eight thousand you owe me right now," he drawled, flicking the hammer of his pistol absently as he watched the little man cower in the gun's sight.

He had a plan - because having a little more money to spend on getting shitfaced drunk or new weaponry was always a good idea.

Suddenly, a knife was in the redhead's off-hand, meeting dangerously with the other man's throat as he flashed forward to behind the other. With the hand that still held his gun, Axel proceeded to put the escort's gun arm into rather painful lock, and grinned as the man winced. He pressed closer to the other from behind him, lips up against the shell of his ear, and teeth bared in amusement and malice.

"Suffice to say that if you so much as hint to anyone about what's happening, I _will_ shoot you." His voice dripped honey and venom. "Or slit your throat, whichever's quicker." He paused.

"And if you ever in the future tell anyone about what has happened, I will hunt you down. Nowhere will be safe for you, and nobody will be willing to take you in. You will be forced to the streets, and I will kill you there."

For once, not a word out of his mouth was a lie.

*~*~*

Marluxia gave an appraising look to the woman standing before him, and found himself rather unimpressed. She was skinny and the muscles were barely visible in her lithe form - not generally good for the job she was wanting to do - but, she had been recommended by Axel, and his was quite the recommendation. The redhead had never recommended anyone before, so Marluxia could only assume that the woman had some talent that was not immediately evident.

The one thing that was interesting about her was the look on her face - she was constantly smirking, though it was nothing like Axel's expression. Everything about the sickly sweet smile was venomous, even sadistic. For that one instant, she reminded him of a coiled snake, and his hopes for her rose.

"What's your name?" That was more a formality than anything.

"Larxene, but you know that already or I wouldn't be here," she said with a false sweetness.

"Indeed." Marluxia paused, and one of his guards shifted his weight. She made them uncomfortable. Interesting.

"You know what you're here for, of course. What makes you think that you, as a woman, would be an asset to an organization like ours?" His voice was only mildly derisive, but she caught it, and the gleam in her bright green eyes responded with malice.

"Because I can inflict more pain on someone that they thought was humanly possible," she responded, tone vindictive. "Because I have a decorating chain of men's balls in my bedroom, and one pair of eyes from a man who didn't have any balls to speak of," she said with a quiet but vicious laugh. "Because I can kill people in ways you didn't even know someone could be killed in. I've lived on the street for thirteen years and have learned more shit than a pansy-ass like you in your little throne-room could ever understand," she continued, sweet expression given its true meaning by her threateningly narrowed eyes.

So she had bite. He liked that.

If he had to imagine the sort of woman that he would allow into his Organization, this is what she would sound like.

"Do you mind if we test your capabilities?" he stated rather than asked, polite formality nothing but a habit to disguise intent. It was an order.

Marluxia gave a nod to one of the men next to him - the other was lithe and fast, but not particularly strong; a good match for her apparent skills - and the guard took to the floor in just a moment. But before the Organization's leader could initiate the match, a set of daggers had left her hands and were flying toward his man's vital points. He dodged them with only a small amount of effort, but in the process moved directly into the path of the sweep-kick that she was executing precisely for that purpose.

He was flat on the ground in an instant, and her poisonous smirk never left her face as she began to dig her dagger into his crotch.

"If you prefer," she responded sweetly to his look of terror, "I could stick this in your ass and slice up. Don't thank me, it's my natural generosity." She giggled at this, the look in her eyes crazed.

Marluxia put a hand up at that, matching her vicious smile with a smirk of his own.

"That was hardly a fair match," he said with a mildly disapproving tone. "But," he continued, "killing for hire is hardly a profession that requires honor. If you had waited until he was prepared, I wouldn't consider you."

She removed her knife from the man's crotch with a look reminiscent of disappointment, then turned to face the other with a slight mocking bow.

"Excellent, a man after my own morals."

"Indeed, it would seem so," he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"You are accepted," he continued, "but you will be considered at the lowest level until you have proven otherwise."

He could tell that rankled her - excellent. She would move up quickly.

"Is that acceptable?" he asked, mocking tone barely audible.

"No," she responded with a toothy grin, "But it'll do for now."

Marluxia laughed silently as she turned and left, giving his defeated guard a derisive look. He made a mental note to replace the that guard, though his gaze never left the door where she left. He would watch her rise with interest. He could only hope that too many of his men weren't castrated in the process.

*~*~*

Axel whistled lightly as he walked out of Xaldin's building with a briefcase full of cash held seemingly carelessly over his shoulder. To his intense amusement, these guys apparently trusted him fairly well - at the door, they had checked to make sure he was only carrying the allotted portion of his payment. Of course, he had been - the other half of the amount he had stolen had been adequately taken care of.

He wasn't stupid enough to make it that easy for the idiots - and, after that, he had been quite free to go.

The suited escort that the assassin had threatened had glared at him the whole way, which was vaguely amusing. That didn't really matter, though, because he nodded to the door guard in affirmation that everything was alright - which was, of course, not true - and so Axel didn't really give a shit whether the guy was happy or not.

_I haven't even done anything wrong, after all_, he thought with mock indignation - there he was, leaving all legit and everything, and the guy still didn't like him. He chuckled. Some days you just can't win.

Other days you win the whole goddamn pot.

He walked in silence for a few more minutes as he left the entrance to Xaldin's little hideout behind, black leather combat boots tapping quietly on the pavement. It took only a bit of extra effort to make himself seem like he was wandering aimlessly - he didn't want them to think he was heading anywhere in particular. This wasn't true, but it just made things easier for him.

It took only another thirty seconds or so before he came to the nearest locksmith's shop, which was slightly less grungy and dilapidated than the buildings by which it was surrounded. He pulled up his black hood, just to make sure that no-one would recognize him, then opened the door and took a long step inside.

About ten minutes later, the man he had been waiting for arrived, checking over his shoulder with the paranoid energy of a man who had many enemies and no confidence. The man's clothes were probably years old and threadbare, so he was clearly a lackey - or had been. He gave Axel an intense look, peering through the shadows thrown by a hood. After confirming the redhead's identity, he and made a motion towards the briefcase in his hand.

"Did you tell Xaldin that you quit?" the redhead asked quietly upon seeing the case, face still hidden in the shadow of his hood. It wouldn't do to have someone else recognize him during the exchange that was going to follow.

"Yeah," the man confirmed, presenting his briefcase for inspection, just so Axel could see that it was the same one that he had given to the other man not a half hour before.

It was rather plain, a regular briefcase in all respects but one - its one curiosity was a rather large and complicated lock. That had been one of Axel's better investments, really - it was portable, and attached with very little effort to whatever surface one wished to be locked. This was quite crucial, because in said briefcase was the other half of the redhead's pay.

After retrieving the cash - not stealing, of course - and putting it into a second briefcase, he found some random goon in the hallway. Axel proceeded to promise the other man that he would receive two thousand dollars - half of the amount in the briefcase - if he helped in getting the cash out and the lock undone. When asked, the redhead lied and said that he'd stolen it but couldn't get the lock off.

It was, of course, his lock that he'd put on for precisely this purpose - so someone else could smuggle the cash out for him without being able to pilfer it for themselves.

So, the stupid guy had agreed to quit Xaldin's organization and show up at the locksmith's for the tools he needed. So he stood there expectantly, waiting for Axel to turn to the locksmith and buy the pieces. After a long moment of silence, a look of realization dawned on the man's face - apparently he had finally noticed that the assassin had been lying to him all along. Tough luck.

As soon as the assassin confirmed that it was the same briefcase - the lock on the top wouldn't be easily duplicated - he pulled his gun and shot the other man in the face, watching intently as the lackey's blood sprayed onto the front window.

"Thanks for everything," he said with a malicious grin as he picked up the suitcase, and much to the astonishment of the shell-shocked locksmith, walked out without another word.

*~*~*

Demyx was more than happy with the preparation of his songs for that evening's concert - he was thrilled, really - and even though Zexion wasn't going to be there, he couldn't help his budding excitement. He was an excitable sort of person, in any case, because it was better to be excited about something than depressed, no matter what life threw at you.

He never had gotten to go out with Zexion the night before, either - but that was ok, because sex was generally an acceptable alternative to going out. Especially if it was good sex, which was the case improbably often with them.

The blonde's less-than-innocent thoughts were interrupted momentarily by a knock on his front door, and he jumped in surprise, blushing at the intrusion. In his vaguely mortified scramble to get up, he knocked over the vase on the piano as he stood up to get it - dammit, not _again_ - but thankfully, most of the stuff in this house was durable. He wasn't the most graceful person in all of creation.

"Coming!" he told the person on the other side of the door as if to reassure them that he was alright, and ran to the door as quickly as he could manage.

Demyx couldn't help but grin in shock as the door swung open to reveal Axel on the other side.

"So you didn't trip and kill yourself, then?" the redhead asked by way of greeting, still smiling as always.

"Of course not, I'm better than that, at least," Demyx responded with a laugh, moving out of the way of the door so that Axel could come in. "Why did it take so long for your skinny ass to show up here again? Where have you been, man?"

"Ah, here and there, doing shit that needed to be done." A pause. "So where's your whipped lover-boy?" That was Axel's sort-of nickname for Zexion: he couldn't help but mock the other assassin for finally settling down, Demyx figured, but that was ok because it was Axel. It occurred to him that Axel might find it amusing because he'd known both parties long before they'd met each other. The redhead had probably screwed both of them in their own time - though Demyx couldn't say for certain in Zexion's case, he was notably tightlipped on the subject - but he repressed that thought quickly enough.

"Oh, Zexy's gone for now. He won't be back until morning, most likely, so you're good," he informed the other casually.

Zexion had a tendency to get angry and kind of violent when he came home to find Axel camping out in the living room, so they tried to avoid him if they could. The blonde knew that it was jealousy - the dark-haired assassin wasn't thrilled with letting Demyx's ex-lovers stay the night - which was kind of cute, but still. The assassin was probably the blonde's best friend who wasn't also his lover, and he wasn't about to let that go.

"Ah, then can I stay the night?" the redhead asked simply, looking around at the décor - it had been changed somewhat substantially since the last time the man had shown up. It had been way too long since then.

"Of course, though normal regulations still apply," the musician responded with amusement. Before Zexion was in the picture, Axel had stayed in Demyx's bedroom, generally naked - but that wasn't acceptable anymore for obvious reasons. Also, another requirement was that he clean up nicely after himself, that he couldn't still be there when Zexion showed up, which the redhead was fine with by all accounts. Entirely apart from the other man's jealous streak, the two were colleagues and rivals to some degree, and even Demyx knew that it could be bad in a job like theirs to let other people know what they were up to.

Though if it ever really came down to it, if it was one over the other - he would have to pick Zexion over his redheaded friend, and he didn't really want to ever have to do that. So he relegated each to their own special world, and did his best not to mix the two. He only hoped that could continue.

XXX

"…So you got double for this job what you get for a normal job?" the blonde asked with amazement, sprawled on his couch after listening to Axel's more than slightly edited version of what had gone on that day.

"Yep," the redhead responded amicably. In truth, it had been three to four times the amount - but he wasn't about to admit that, even to Demyx.

The other man grinned in a manner that was half-conspiratorial and half-shocked, and the redhead couldn't help but grin back.

"Hell, how'd you get them to do that?" he asked, voice almost soaked with something resembling worship. The kid was like that sometimes - but that made him fun as all hell to mess around with.

"My natural charm and good looks," Axel responded, taking his black leather jacket and hanging it on the hook. He'd try to stay there for as long as he could - he stayed wherever he like most of the time, regardless, but he liked to stay out of Zexion's way. The other assassin was one of the few people Axel openly acknowledged as being intelligent - extremely so, really - and the redhead didn't want him as an enemy for as long as he could avoid it.

The two had a certain respect for each other that came from being two of the best in the business, but that didn't mean that they liked each other. This was probably fueled by jealousy on Zexion's part - Demyx had said as much - or maybe also by Axel's habit of conspicuously groping the blond only when the other assassin was in the room. Aside from that, though, they were both schemers - both talented at the art of manipulation, and neither felt that they could take the other at their word. Of course, both were right.

"Or that guy was an idiot," Demyx responded with the same grin.

"Entirely a possibility," the other man replied with a flashed smirk. "But I'm still chalking it up to skill."

"Yeah, you lie like a master, don't you? I guess lying to yourself isn't any different." The blonde's tone wasn't accusatory at all, instead carrying a gentle teasing tone.

Axel gave the other a theatrically wounded look, and put his hands up as if to deflect suspicion.

"Come on now, whatever made you think that?" he drawled, eyes flashing with amusement and something else. It always came to him as something like a shock when Demyx did something that proved he knew the other man. The redhead never quite understood why he let this camaraderie live, when it had a possibility to be so dangerous.

Demyx was an interesting enough kid, it was true - he managed to keep his innocence and good nature despite his numerous connections to mob life. It was impressive, he supposed, but Axel made it a rule never to trust anyone as far has he could throw them. He told himself that that was true even for the doe-eyed blonde boyfriend of one of his colleagues.

Especially, it occurred to him, for the boyfriend of one of his colleagues. You never knew when someone you'd been cleaning your pistol with - figuratively or literally - would be suddenly in your rifle sights. Or the other way around.

It would probably be in both of their best interests to keep away from Demyx for a good long time. Emotional connections tended to get you killed more than they did anything else. That was why he didn't have any - none that mattered, anyway.

The redhead's train of thought was interrupted by Demyx's response to his earlier words.

"Well, you know, the lying was a big tip-off that you might be a liar," the blonde said with amusement.

"Izzat so?" the other murmured. A topic change was in order. "So anyway, I've got that job coming up, so you won't be seeing me for a while" - possibly ever again, if he could manage it - "but until then, I'm crashing at your place."

This was his way of asking for a room. Not so very long ago, it had also been his way of asking for a casual fuck, but then the kid and Zexion had gotten together, and Axel discovered that Demyx had this strange aversion to cheating on his boyfriend. Weird world.

He didn't press the issue, because he wasn't all that attracted to the blonde anyway, and willing help for problems of a sexual nature could be found so easily, if you knew where to look. So he slept on the couch.

"Fantastic. Now, you wouldn't happen to have a map of the city lying around, would you?"

"Might. Why?"

"I'm gonna plan my next hit, what did you expect?" he asked with a kind of fond derision reserved only for the stupidity of people he could stand.

"Ah." One of the things Axel liked about this kid was that the insults didn't seem to phase him. "I'll get it for you, then?"

"You do that."

Silently, he laughed, because here he was in Zexion's household, planning the demise of Lexaeus. The best part was that Axel's target was one of the few men that the other assassin had ever called a friend.

He could practically taste the irony. It was a taste the world could do with more of.

XXX

XXX

Heavily revised, especially the beginning section. Thank you for reading!

Speak to me?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Maybe Larxene hadn't started out the day in the best of moods, but even that had quickly turned downhill from its less than spectacular beginning. She had performed a hit that morning, and that sort of shit generally put her in a good mood - but that pink-haired son of a bitch Marluxia had her doing stupid goddamn _menial_ crap. Her job that morning had been taking out some scared kids who hadn't paid their damn gambling loans on time. Sure, they'd screamed and squealed, which was amusing at first - but it quickly got old. She was really looking for a challenge; someone who didn't scream, at least not at first. Someone she had to get _creative_ with before they'd shit themselves in terror.

And soon afterwards, she'd come back to the Organization for her pay, but been fucking talked _down_ to by not one, but two of the members she'd had to talk to. The last one had even - goddamn him - tried to make a _pass_ at her. She'd reined in her anger on the first one, not particularly wanting to be kicked out of the Organization so early in her employment, but by the time the second started giving her that condescending grin, she was about to burst a blood vessel - and when he started to make insinuations about the two of them and their possible nighttime activities, she buried her knife in his groin without further ado. It wasn't worth waiting for when she could just _take_ her fucking pay.

Her day had sunk even further when she realized that punishing the bastard had made her lose one of her goddamn knives, as it was still stuck in the place where what had passed as his dick had once been. She wasn't about to make things easier for the stupid bastard by taking it out herself, though - and besides, with all the screaming and writhing in pain he was doing, she would have to spend more effort than she wanted to use to try and get it out.

So, her fury was understandable if not excusable by the time she'd marched right through the building to the meeting-room where a guard had told her that the boss was at the time, and told Marluxia's little guards to go fuck themselves. She then proceeded to burst right in on him during what looked like it might have been an important meeting. He and several others were sitting around a long table, and an angry voice was cut off as she stormed over, but she didn't really give a damn.

"Get your ass out here," she hissed at him, hands clenching and opening again in frustration. The other people at the table blinked at her with a mixture of condescension and bleary consternation, and she shot them a glare that would stop most men in their tracks.

"Can't it wait," he responded with a calm amusement that didn't seem to be affected by the various stages of discontent around him.

"If it waits I'm getting the fuck out of this place," she snapped. "I am _not_ coming back if you're gonna be fucking patronizing at me."

Marluxia gave her a look that she couldn't quite interpret, but she wasn't about to waste effort on trying to. After a moment, he gave a resigned sigh that was likely overdone just to annoy her

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me for a moment," he told them, though they didn't look particularly thrilled at that either, as he stood and walked out the back door, with Larxene following behind him. There was a kind of confidence in his step that made her want to just take out her knives and carve him up so bad he couldn't even fucking _walk_ anymore.

The door led to another room, fairly large and empty but for a small desk in the back corner that was evidently unoccupied at the moment, and as soon as she shut the door he turned back to face her.

"I would like to know," he began silkily, without preface, "what made you think that you could challenge my authority like that in front of a room full of important men." His gaze had quickly cooled to an icy annoyance from his earlier amusement - of course, the bastard couldn't show annoyance or any other emotion in front of the wolves he'd been dealing with.

"Because you're a fucking pansy ass, I've said it before," she snarled back, green eyes glinting. But before she could continue, she was taken off-guard, wide-eyed as he punched her across the cheek with more strength than she would have guessed that his lithe frame possessed.

"I will not tolerate insubordination," he said in a voice that had become icy within moments. "Understand that."

"Fuck you and fuck _this_," she snapped, knives falling out of her sleeves with a kind of grace that could only come from practice.

"Please don't have any illusions about who will win if we fight," Marluxia responded, his own weapon - a telescoping scythe he kept on his side at all times - out and ready within in seconds.

"Shut the hell up," came her response, and her face tensed as she went into a fighting position, knuckles turning white as she clenched her knives tightly.

Their fight lasted for only a few minutes - but Marluxia, with that knowing smirk on his face, drew first blood, and last.

She left the room with the red liquid dripping down her front and sides, staining the previously impeccable carpet - and as she walked out, ignoring the incredulous, disapproving stares from the businessmen, it occurred to her that maybe he wasn't as weak as she had thought. Maybe he might actually know what he was doing.

She didn't have much more time to think after that, because she passed straight out on the floor by the meeting-table, and had to be carried out. It was the first and last time she'd ever been carried _anywhere_, and she wouldn't allow it to happen again - not until the day that she fucking died, and even _then_ they'd have to fight her on it.

XXX

The Seventh Heaven bar was more crowded than usual this evening - but that was hardly surprising given that it was some sort of holiday, the nature of which Cloud neither knew nor would bother to investigate. The place was always busy on holidays, and every other day also - men in navy and black suits mingled back and forth across the half-lit room, conversation a dull roar that was interrupted occasionally by a burst of the kind of laughter that generally accompanied heavy drinking.

The blonde's purpose here was singular - he came here every so often, about once a month, though he did not drink; he would slink in as quietly as he could manage in order to ascertain the safety and well-being of one Tifa Lockheart, then leave as soon as he had laid eyes on her. She was the bartender and proprietor of that establishment - though Cloud highly suspected that it had been registered under her good friend Barrett's name because of that legal technicality that wouldn't really allow women to own their own property - but when they both were younger, she had been his childhood friend.

So, he moved through the crowd with more grace than willingness, finding a dark place behind the bar where he could see more of the surroundings than could see him - but even that wasn't foolproof. It didn't take Cloud's carefully trained senses to notice that he was being watched. Finding that Tifa was not currently anywhere to be seen, he turned to lock eyes with whoever was interested in him, in hopes of discouraging them from further inquiry. To his mild annoyance, it appeared to be an acquaintance - someone who might not just let him be if he gave them enough disparaging looks.

"Yo." A pause. "So, Cloud," drawled Reno from his position in the corner, where his red hair and distinctive slouch drew the eye to him, even though the room was filled with others in similar dress sauntering on their own ways around him around him. "Word has it that the boss called you in for a promotion today. Izzat true?" he asked lazily, eyeing the blonde man with interest. Rude was drinking a silently whiskey beside him - but then, the two partners were never apart for long. It was almost unthinkable to see one without the other.

Cloud didn't respond, having no particular desire to trade words with the redhead at any time, much less right then.

"What, ya gone mute or something?" he pressed. "I just asked a simple question." The look in his eyes

Maybe an answer would satisfy him. Then again, maybe not.

To the blonde's relief, Reno went on without him - probably an effect of the alcohol he appeared to have been consuming in copious quantities. But then, that wouldn't have been surprising - the redhead was almost always drinking some kind of alcoholic drink, if he could manage.

"So the boss has finally put ya up with the commanders. That's some high-paying shit, ain't it?" The smirk on his face made it clear that he hadn't forgotten just who, of the two of them, was paid more - promotion or no promotion. The Turks were paid more in large part, Cloud suspected, because they were more willing to perform tasks of questionable morality for the good of the company. A former military man like the blonde was too immobile with regards to what he would or would not do, so ShinRa hired people with fewer moral compunctions for that kind of work.

But of course, ShinRa corporation must have expected that when they decided to siphon off the most talented military men to be in their private army. Enticed by better pay or the promise of free time and prestige, or for reasons of their own, they came, and because of it ShinRa now had an army contingent larger than that of small nations. But, unsatisfied with simply a guard and police force, the Turks were created to do the other, less pleasant jobs.

Again, the blonde did not respond to the other man, hoping that he would go seek someone more interesting to bother.

No such luck.

He crossed his arms and eyed the back door hopefully, waiting for Tifa to appear so he could leave.

"I just wanted t' offer my congratulations," he said with a rather pathetic attempt at a honest tone that barely covered up his amusement. "Sit down, have a drink, yo. Chill out, for once."

Cloud was thankfully rewarded for his patience by the appearance of a familiar face at the back of the club. She searched the bar's patrons for someone - maybe him, he'd never know - and after only a few moments, laid eyes on him, though he had shifted his gaze to the floor. He wouldn't speak to her tonight; instead he turned on his heel to leave before she arrived.

Reno ignored the silent exchange, but his lazy smirk remained even as Cloud turned away from him.

"I hear ya have a big, important meeting tomorrow. That ya get to meet the General." His voice, though still amused, had taken on an edge to it now; it was clear enough what he meant. Cloud stiffened and froze in his tracks for just a moment - he hadn't heard of any such thing, as of yet, and it took him more than a little bit off guard.

"What are you getting at?" he finally responded, though he never turned around to face the other man.

"Oh, nothin'," responded Reno with the same grin. "Just figured you'd be all excited about meeting your childhood hero, is all."

The look on Cloud's face darkened almost imperceptibly at those words - the intent was clear enough. Reno was smarter than he acted, and he wanted the soldier to know exactly what he had figured out, though he never precisely said it.

In truth, his adoration for the General had never quite abated, and had developed into something else entirely - and, regardless of that, in many ways it was that same adoration that had turned into his drive to be a soldier. Turned into his drive for everything.

Manipulation and information had always been the Turks' strong points; but since the nature of Cloud's feelings towards General Sephiroth had little blackmail value, the blonde could only assume that the Turk just wanted to ruffle him a little. It was like a game to him.

A feminine voice interrupted their exchange.

"Cloud!" Tifa exclaimed, hoping to keep him there for just a moment, just a little bit - but he began again to walk forward, away. Reno was no longer interested in him, most likely - he had made his point, made Cloud stop and take notice. He only hoped that Tifa, also, wouldn't follow, knowing that he wanted to be left alone.

Because after all, one year ago, on that day, he had found Aerith's lifeless, bloodstained body in the Chicago slums.

In the face of that reality, on the date of her death, even his responsibility to Tifa seemed miniscule.

He stepped forward and out the door without another word.

XXX

Axel's plans came together slowly, subtly, at first - because this time, at least, he wanted the death to be quiet. It started as just a whisper at first, then many - rumors that Lexaeus was incompetent, rumors that he was becoming a _moralist_ - and that word could be fatal in the line of business that they were in - rumors that he was giving money away that should have been given to his goons, or alternately, that it was being hoarded by their silent boss.

None of the rumors had any truth to them, of course, but then, very little of anything Axel ever said did.

They did, however, accomplish their intended purpose - to shake the loyalty of Lexaeus's devoted thugs, to where they could be bought off for less.

Axel grinned under the shadow of his hood as the man he had been waiting for sidled up to where the redhead was leaning against a sooty brick wall in the factory district. The man's face was square and his hair dark, but he was otherwise unremarkable - plain - and was in a fairly high position within the offshoot organization.

"Didja have a look at his books?"

"Fifty thousand missing," the man muttered, and Axel's grin grew even sharper. Of _course_ fifty thousand dollars had mysteriously gone missing from Lexaeus's account books - the assassin had hired a man not so very long ago to change a few zeroes here and there, until it looked like the poor bookkeeping was created to hide some money being swindled out of other accounts. Of course, that man couldn't possibly let that particular secret go, being quite dead.

But Axel needed this one alive.

"Alright, thanks," he responded with barely contained amusement. "See that you don't tell anyone, will you?" He handed over the wad of cash that the other man had been promised in exchange for surreptitiously checking his boss's account books. He conspicuously didn't add any money for the man's silence.

Axel knew that the best way to make someone want to spill a secret would always be to make it seem important, and the best way to do that would be to tell him to keep it silent.

And the spilling of that particular secret was exactly what he wanted.

The redhead walked off into the fog of an early winter evening, characteristic red hair still hidden by his hood.

The other man scuttled off behind him, presumably to tell the other lackeys exactly what had been going on, and Axel grinned.

XXX

There were many people in the world in which they all lived who couldn't be trusted - and Axel had always put Marluxia and his little entourage at the top of that list.

That didn't mean that he didn't like them, however. The were fun as all hell to mess around with, and if all had gone well - he hadn't really checked - Larxene would now be a member of the Organization also, so he could mess with them all in one place. It was just easier that way.

So, when he wandered into their little compound - yes, he had a key, he worked with those people sometimes - it was only partially to put his plan into motion. He probably could have done this any number of ways, and there was no guarantee that it would work, but they were all so damn much fun.

His thoughts slowed to a close as he approached Marluxia's work-room, flanked by nameless guards who let Axel pass on sight. It was laughable, how much they trusted him.

He slammed the doors open quickly, partially for dramatic effect but mostly to see the look on Marluxia's face. He made it a point to be an arrogant asshole in the other man's presence, because it pissed him off immensely, even though he didn't like to show it, and that was beyond amusing for the young redhead.

"Yo," he drawled without preface, words accompanied by his two-fingered salute.

"Axel," responded the pink-haired wonder in front of him, as he sat up straighter from where he had been writing something on his fancy-ass maple desk. "It's been a while. What do you want? Looking for a job?" he asked pointedly, as if he should leave as quickly as possible if that was not the case.

"Sort of. Mostly I just came to check up on my favorite lesbian," he said with his enigmatic smile, knife-edged. Marluxia stiffened, which had been, of course, his intention.

"You might be wise not to insult me in such a way," the other responded darkly, and Axel gave a laugh.

"I love how you take offense to that, man. Really says something about you, to be sure, but don't get your panties in a twist - I wasn't talking about you." Not that time, at least. "How's my girl Larxene?"

Marluxia raised an eyebrow, looking mildly annoyed.

"She was your woman?"

"Not really. It's an expression. You love to jump to conclusions," he said with a grin. Of course, that was a lie, because what Marluxia was actually asking was not whether they had been together in a formal sort of way but whether they had fucked - and he had slept with Larxene, more than once, back when she was just a poisonous little street thief. "In any case, how is she?"

"She's in the medic's ward right now," he responded dispassionately.

Now it was Axel's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"This fast? Damn, I thought she was better than that." But at least he knew, now, that she was a member of the Organization.

"She had the poor judgment to challenge my authority in public. I reprimanded her. It was not her skill or lack thereof." There was a pause. "She appears to have castrated one of my guards today, however." The tone in his voice was more amused than anything. "I almost question your judgment in bringing her to us."

Axel gave a smooth laugh at that - that was the Larxene that he knew, to be sure.

"Yeah, she's kinda a loose cannon, I'll give you that. But she's good at what she does." He paused for a minute. "And you like her anyway, don't you?" That was more a statement than a question.

"She is quite the asset." Another amused pause. "But I can't afford to lose too many men to her anger."

"Yeah, you should probably do something about that."

"I was intending to follow up on my earlier lesson as soon as she has been given stitches," he stated, seeming to have regained his calm despite his earlier annoyance.

"Ah. Can I come with? Want to see the little bitch," he said fondly.

"If you wish." He stood up. "The present is as good a time as any."

Axel followed the other man silently, face implacable but mind whirring - he knew that he needed Marluxia to let down his guard in order to achieve what he wanted to, but the specifics on how to achieve that escaped him for the moment.

It took only a few minutes for them to arrive in the ward where Larxene was - it would have been difficult to mistake which one it was, because one was silent and the other filled with irritated yelling.

They entered silently, not attracting the notice of patient or nurse as they stood, Axel with his arms cross, near the door, which was apparently locked from the outside so the patients couldn't leave without permission.

"I want you to let me out of here," Larxene began sweetly, evidently changing tactics, "or when I do get out, so help me, I will put you in so much pain that your body will just shut down from it."

"Now, Larxene," Axel began, interrupting their exchange, "That's no way to talk to a pretty lady." He gave a smirk and a nod to the nurse, who flushed and took a step back from the bed in a startled silence.

"Axel? Get me the hell out of here," she snapped, abandoning her saccharine pretenses.

"Uh, I think my answer to that would be a no for now," he responded with a shake of his head.

"I would have thought that you would have learned not to insult your superiors by now," cut in Marluxia smoothly, giving a nod to the nurse that she should leave them. "Should I teach you that particular lesson again?"

"Oh it's you, bastard. Both of you came to visit me. Isn't that just fucking _peachy_." She paused. "And what the hell are you doing here, anyway?" she asked, question clearly directed at Axel.

"Nothin', nothin'," he responded, hands up as if to deflect suspicion. "I told Marly here that already. Just here to see how you were doing, maybe trade some info or some shit. It'll be just like old times," he mentioned with a pointed smirk in Larxene's direction.

She calmed down very quickly at that, and that immobile snake of a smile was back. Good.

"Like old times. What, you mean sex on the floor?" she responded with derision. "A spate of bloodletting?" She paused for effect. "All of it was _yours_, if you recall."

Axel didn't remember it quite the same way, of course, but that wasn't important right now. Instead, he ignored her previous comments, moving on to something else - he knew that would rile her. It always did.

"Anyway, as for trading info -" he saw Marluxia stiffen at that, knowing that this was Axel's real business here "- I hear that you've been looking at taking over the crazy old man's syndicate. Is that true?" The crazy old man was, of course, Xemnas; though he was probably not over thirty, his hair was impossibly white.

Marluxia denied the allegation smoothly, but then he was quite the liar himself. Nowhere near on Axel's level, clearly, but nothing to laugh at either.

"I think that you are mistaken," the man responded with a delicately raised eyebrow.

" 'Sat so? Good to know," the other said with only a faint patina of disbelief. "Now that _that_ business is over and done with, Larxene just made a fantastic suggestion. Shall we?" he asked in a tone of voice that couldn't possibly be mistaken for anything other than precisely what it was.

Of course, both other people in the room had previously been his fuckbuddies more than once, and it would probably not be too much trouble to get both of them in bed with him at the same time.

During the ten seconds of disbelieving silence that it took for him to get his response, he noted the expressions on their faces with a distinct amusement.

Larxene was up off the bed in a flash, though slower than she might have normally been due to injury, and she stalked over to him with a burning anger in her eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she hissed venomously.

"Well, the two of you, naturally."

It took only moments for a fight of sorts to erupt, and though neither Marluxia nor Larxene precisely agreed to it, after a while the passion of anger turned into a different kind of passion, just like Axel knew it would.

And that was more than just alright by him, because people were always so much more pliable after sex.

XXX

As the oldest son and heir of one of Chicago's wealthiest businessmen, Roxas had always sort of thought - subconsciously, of course - that he was above everything, that he was immune and invincible. It was one of the downsides of wealth, and indeed of childhood, that it never quite seems like harm will touch you or your family.

It struck him like a blow to walk into his parents' bedroom to find out how very, tragically wrong he had been.

His mother's face as she lay among the mounds of dark pillows was pale, tinged with a green that could only be associated with a terrible sickness, and the dramatic contrast, the change from the vibrant person she had been only hours before, was more than enough to frighten him.

He found the housekeeper as quickly as he could manage, and once she came to see the lady of the house, she dismissed him worriedly - which is exactly what he'd been afraid of. Within thirty minutes, a doctor had arrived at their door, and entered the room with a grim face.

Roxas watched from the grand marble staircase as a seemingly endless procession of doctors and nurses streamed in and out of those two doors.

"Hey, Rox?" came a voice from behind him - Sora, of course he wouldn't miss all this racket. He cursed internally, then turned around to face his younger brother.

"Yeah? What's up?

"Who are these people?" he asked, confused and maybe a little nervous. Hordes of visitors never were a particularly good sign.

Roxas sighed - he had sort of intended to keep this from the brunette, but it was probably too late now.

"It's nothing, Sora. You should go back into your room," he responded in a last half-hearted attempt to make everything alright again, or at least make his little brother think so.

Sora gave him a slightly pained look.

"Rox, I can tell when you're lying to me, and even if I couldn't - this is kind of obvious," he said quietly. His large blue eyes surveyed the surroundings, watching, until something caught his eye.

"These are doctors, aren't they?" he said after a moment, face growing pale. "What's happened? Is mom alright? Dad?"

"Yeah, they're fine," Roxas responded unconvincingly.

"Stop lying to me, Roxas," Sora finally interjected, voice firm. "What's happened?"

"Well…" He took a deep breath. "It looks like mom's been poisoned."

The shocked, drained look on Sora's face, he expected, would be almost identical to the look on his own.

He would have liked to spare Sora that, if he could.

"What? Poisoned?" he asked, voice taking on a slightly hysterical note. "By who? Why? Is she going to be ok?"

"Luckily, she only seems to have taken a sip of the poisoned drink," the blonde responded, answering the last question first. "But… she's sick. Really sick," he added, though he knew his younger brother understood. "And by who?" He paused. "Well, I don't think they really know, but I bet… I bet it was someone trying to get at Father," he spat, voice trembling with barely concealed rage.

Roxas had never liked his father - never liked his father's distant approach, his seeming carelessness, his restrictive hold over the life of his son and heir - and so, all the frustrated rage and horror he felt at his mother's sudden illness was directed completely towards his father, lacking any other target.

"But what did dad _do?_" Sora asked, not getting any calmer. "He didn't do anything that would make someone do _this, _did he?"

"I don't know, Sora -" though he suspected that the answer to that was yes "- but one way or another, all we can do is wait."

Even though he knew the truth of that statement, still it rankled with him, and he could barely contain his fury.

XXX

"So, about your little plan…" Axel began amusedly, naked and satisfied on the floor of the hospital ward.

"I don't have a plan," responded Marluxia with an attempt at firmness that failed dramatically due to that post-coital calmness that seemed to overtake even that man, ruthless as he might have been.

"Yeah, ok," Axel said dismissively. "Well, if you _did_ have a plan, would it interest you to know that one of Xemnas's little offshoot groups seems to be having a little bit of trouble?"

Axel conveniently neglected to mention that the problems were all his doing. That wouldn't be very good sport.

Marluxia gave a the other a look that could almost be interpreted as curious.

"What kind of problems might you be talking about?" he asked carefully, wary of the other man's intentions in giving away even this little bit of information. Knowledge, after all, always came at a price - and Axel was not the sort of man to trade valuable info for sexual favors.

Larxene lay, silent, between the two, not knowing how to enter this exchange.

"The kind that can be taken advantage of." He paused. "Seems like his loyal troops ain't quite so loyal anymore, if you know what I mean."

Clearly, Marluxia did.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked suspiciously.

Axel grinned slowly - this would be the best part.

"I want you to hire me to kill him."

The other man gave him a look of surprise, or maybe even shock - but that look wouldn't even compare to the expression he would have if he knew exactly what was going on.

If Marluxia accepted, not only would Axel have an excuse to use their impeccable information network, plus other data, but he would be miraculously double-paid for the same job. Even better, now, neither Marluxia nor Larxene would likely betray him, as their own fates would rest to some degree with him.

Before the other could interrupt, Axel continued.

"See, now, it's a win/win situation. You know that I'm the best in the city-" a little arrogance never went amiss "-and I get paid for it. I've been a little short on challenging jobs lately," he said with a smirk. "Plus, you can use your scheming to supplant Lexaeus, and then you'd have control of at least part of Xemnas's empire."

There was a long silence, and the two men watched each other carefully, gears clearly turning in their heads.

"What makes you think that's what I want?" Marluxia asked, toneless.

The redhead snorted derisively.

"Don't be an idiot. You don't become the head of an organization of assassins unless you're an ambitious son of a bitch, and it's no secret to anyone who's talked to you when you're being even halfway honest that there's no love lost between yourself and Xemnas."

Marluxia barely even flinched at the assessment - quite the accomplishment.

"Couple days at most. How quick can you blackmail and coerce one of the higher-ups into being your man?" he asked with his smirk, sitting up for the first time, chest gleaming with drying sweat.

"A week, more or less."

"Better get cracking, then."

There was a silence.

"Alright, you have a deal. Five thousand for the whole operation."

"Understood."

Perfect.

XXX

About two days after his meeting - was that the right word? - with Marluxia, Axel got another job offer, this time from a wealthy businessman who was apparently rather pissed off that a hitman had targeted his wife.

In Axel's opinion, that was kind of just life when you worked with the kind of people that that guy did, but hey.

But, he always tried to make it a point to not take new hits before the old ones were finished, so he decided to speed up the whole process, and take Lexaeus down quicker than he had planned.

The next few days passed swiftly enough, and the plan was laid quietly. Lexaeus's three separate safe houses were all taken care of - one had been carefully destroyed in what was explained as a gas tank explosion, another had been leaked to the police and was now being watched, and the third - well, the third was where that man was to stay that night.

Getting into the house itself had hardly been easy, but it wasn't difficult either. The real difficulty was managing it with a small child in his arms, and that was no joke, even while she was in a drugged sleep. She was small enough that she fit under his arm easily, which he was immensely grateful for, even though climbing the neighboring house and jumping across and through the man's bedroom window were both more difficult than they might otherwise have been.

Once he had settled into the man's bedroom, it was only a matter of waiting.

The man he had hired - Michael, he remembered vaguely - arrived within minutes to check that all was going according to plan - it was, of course - and moved to guard the doorway, just as had been intended.

The man had no idea what he was getting into, stupid fuck. He thought that they were doing this in order so that he could be head of this part of the organization. The thought made Axel laugh.

Half an hour came and went, and finally, there was noise outside the door.

"Is it clear?" muttered a voice - a bodyguard's most likely.

"Yeah," responded the guy Axel had bought off.

"Axel silently pulled his gun from its holster, and as soon as the door opened, his pullet shot through the man's heart, lodging there.

Quickly, he hefted the girl up to a visible height, and put his gun to her head as it lolled unnaturally on her delicate neck, passed out and completely unaware of the danger that was so close.

"Yo, Lexaeus," he said as the bodyguard's corpse fell away. "Now, don't move, or your lovely daughter dies," he said amicably. The girl had been taken earlier that night from her room in her own, separate safe house, and if all went well, would be returned before morning.

"Put her down," said Lexaeus quietly, clearly with little hope that the other man would do so. As the door opened fully, Axel could see that his henchman had his gun to the other man's head. Excellent.

"Ah, let's go with a 'no' on that one. I'm here to kill you, but I suspect you knew that."

"Bastard."

"Yeah, I know. Now can we get a move on? Put your gun down so I can shoot you." He hefted the girl again in his arms, just to remind the other man of what he could do - and he would shoot the girl, if things went wrong.

As soon as Lexaeus did as asked and stood back up, Axel gave a nod to his hired man to put his gun down also. He considered it to be against what few morals he had left to allow someone else to make a kill he was being paid for.

"I gave you your start, Axel. I liked you," he rumbled, in a final attempt at dissuasion.

"Half of your problem right there," he pointed out with a grim smile before shifting his gun and pulling the trigger, watching the man fall. The silence that followed was punctuated too soon by the sound of running from below, where the rest of the guards walked. Well, they had been walking - now they were chasing him, though they didn't know what to look for.

"Remember," he said to his guard as he prepared to climb out of the window again, "that you killed him, so you should get leadership of the Organization. Survival of the fittest, right?" This was, of course, a lie on both counts, but Michael seemed to actually believe him, on the second, at least.

Without another word, Axel climbed out the window delicately and made the jump down to the first story, then was off into the shadows of the evening as quickly as he could. He knew that his goon wouldn't live for long - the killer of your leader, contrary to that idiot's thought processes, would almost never be let live if he was caught.

He was counting on that - a scapegoat for the murder, and a dead one at that.

In the distance, he heard shouting, then a gunshot, and grinned like the devil.

XXX

XXX

Again, thanks for reading?

I love you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Cloud woke up the morning after his encounter with Reno and Tifa to his empty apartment, far too large for him without the addition of another body where she would have been, a year ago. This apartment had been given to him as part of the bonus for becoming ShinRa, for him and Aerith to live in, together - but he found himself more often than not, now, missing the quiet anonymity of the barracks. This place was filled with ghosts of his own making.

He got up and got dressed silently, watching the early morning sunshine filter through the dust and fog, when his solitude was interrupted by a rather loud and vigorous rapping on his door.

"Cloud? You up yet?" came the voice from the other side, disturbingly cheery despite the time of day. The blonde groaned internally, knowing exactly who it was and for what purpose they had arrived.

"Yuffie, what are you doing here so early?" he asked, disgruntled, as he opened the door to let the day flood his apartment.

"For encouragement, of course!" she said exuberantly, taking a few bouncing steps in to survey his living arrangements. "After all, today's a pretty big day for you."

She really was quite something - he hadn't said a word to anyone about his promotion to captain, and yet she was announcing this as if it were public knowledge. But then again, Yuffie Kisaragi had never been what one might call normal; in order to avoid the burden society placed on women, she dressed like a man - or a boy, more accurately - and chopped off all her hair. She didn't seem to miss it at all and, miracle of miracles, she actually pulled the disguise off. She was now a street thief of top quality, but she was dependable, despite that.

Cloud knew about her gender simply because he once had the misfortune of walking in on her changing one day in the back room of Tifa's bar - but after she calmed down, the sharing of such a secret had bonded them together, improbable as it might have been, until she was as constant a presence in his life as anyone had ever been.

"I wonder how everyone keeps finding out about that," he said with a small, wry smile that seemed almost half-rueful.

"Easy enough to do if you know where to look," she responded brightly. "Just because you don't tell anyone anything doesn't mean that it can't be found out."

He made a noncommittal noise in response as he picked up and slung on the other pieces of the array of weaponry he carried on a regular basis. He still had something of a sentimental attachment to the sword he carried on his back, even though it was far more practical most of the time to use a pistol.

"Really, Yuffie - why are you here?" he asked at length, not because he wanted her away, but because he very much doubted that her stated purpose was her actual one.

There was a long pause, during which Yuffie sat herself down on Cloud's bed, of course without permission. She was quiet for a bit as she watched him, probably determining whether or not to speak.

"Well… I'd think it was kind of obvious," she said after a moment. "I'm here to see if you're alright," she said with a little half-smile. She didn't say any more than that, but it was clear enough - Aerith's death hadn't been easy on any of their small group of friends, but it had hit Cloud the worst for many reasons.

It occurred to him then that of _course_ that would be why she was there - Yuffie had always worried a little bit about the blonde, and the fact that she was also friends with Tifa probably made it even worse. Tifa was an old childhood friend of Cloud's, and she couldn't seem to help but worry about him, even to the point of sending other people to ask when he wouldn't endanger her by being with her.

"Did Tifa send you?" he asked after a short pause.

"No, she didn't," the girl responded, "But… I'm sure she would be happy if I told her you were ok."

"So… I can tell her, then?" Yuffie asked happily. Though she never agreed with Cloud's decision, she never fought it either, and he was grateful for that.

k." There was silence for a moment. "Can I, Cloud? I mean, I know that…"

"It's fine," he cut her off. He tried to keep away from Tifa, as much as she would allow - but despite everything, despite Aerith's death due to her connection to him, she wouldn't just leave him be.

"Yeah," he said while moving out the door - after all, he had someplace he needed to be in half an hour. He was trying not to think about it, as much as he could manage.

"Hey, 'm I interrupting something?" came a voice from around the corner - where were they all coming from, all of a sudden? - and he noted that it was far too familiar for his liking.

"Axel," he said, face betraying nothing in the way that he had mastered. "What brings you here?"

They hadn't seen each other in a good six months or so - they had been acquaintances since Axel's ill-fated stint in the military, which lasted all of about a month, and though the man used to turn up randomly to requisition a place to stay, those times had become fewer and farther between now that Aerith was gone.

"Eh, just some shit I've been doing in the area, decided to drop on by. How is your spiky-haired ass, anyway? And who's the friend?"

"I'm fine," he said shortly, not entirely thrilled that the other man was back, to say the very least.

"And I'm Yuffie!" the girl exclaimed, taking care that her voice not sound _too_ high. "Nice to meetcha. You're Axel, then? I've heard about you." Her name being Asian, most of the people living in the city would have no idea that it was a girl's name, which was quite alright by her.

Axel gave her a long appraising look and Cloud was afraid for just a moment that he had realized the girl's deception, but the expression faded quickly into a more genial one - he hoped that he was just being paranoid, but rather suspected not.

"Only good, I hope," the redhead responded silkily with that overtone that made it seem like he was always mocking the other person, no matter what it was that he was saying. Despite that, Yuffie seemed to be having a little bit of trouble keeping herself from staring at the man, which he took completely in stride, of course.

"Tell me what you want," Cloud finally interrupted quietly, meeting the other man's eyes.

"Eh, I can't even get a proper hello?"

"I'm leaving." He took a few steps forward before Axel turned around, hands up in a placating gesture.

"Aw, fine then," he responded with a grin, amused at Cloud's reticent nature. "Look, I need a place to crash. It ok with you if I sleep here?"

"No," he said after a moment - he had no desire whatsoever to deal with someone like Axel right now. Yuffie shifted beside him, holding her tongue uncharacteristically well.

"Come on, I need a place to stay." He paused, then took a breath, and Cloud knew exactly what the other man was going to say, because, of course, he'd said it before. "You know Aerith promised me a place to stay whenever I needed one," he drawled with the smirk of someone who knew, already, that they had won.

There was another long silence, interrupted only by the indignant little noise that Yuffie made beside them which went ignored.

"Fine. I want you out by tomorrow."

No matter how nice Axel used to be to Aerith, Cloud never really liked the way he grinned.

XXX

It took only seconds from the moment Zexion walked in through the door for Demyx to realize that something was very wrong. The look on his lover's face was dark and brooding - as angry as he had ever seen the other man be - although, perhaps, to someone else, it might have seemed like he was perfectly calm. He was good at that - and it was a trait that had probably kept him alive more than once, so Demyx wasn't arguing.

"Zexion? Did something happen?" he asked, though he knew that something must have - the assassin simply did not get his feathers ruffled by anything of less than catastrophic import.

"Yeah," he responded, words quiet but seething underneath with a freezing fury - but despite that, he was impossibly still, like any one movement might break his forced calm. "They killed Lexaeus," he finally spat, and it wasn't quite clear who he was referring to or whether he even _knew_.

Demyx flinched as the other man spoke, maybe not so much because of what had happened to Lexaeus - though he had been a good man, and a friend as much as he was able - but because it occurred to him that any given day, in a week or month or year, that could be Zexion that was lying dead somewhere.

But that look on his lover's face - the veneer of absolute calm, almost a dead calm, over the roiling anger - was enough to pull him back to the present, to Zexion's loss.

"I'm sorry," he said, because there was nothing else to say, and because he wanted so desperately to do something and couldn't, instead gripping the careful mahogany of his chair tighter as he stood, and took a step forward.

The other didn't respond, staring stone-faced at the wall behind his lover, expression still tight, in that way that he did when he didn't want Demyx to understand what he was thinking.

"The bastard who did it, I think I-" The blonde knew exactly what the other man was going to say - Zexion knew who had done it, or at least had a feeling, and he could probably find out if his instincts were true.

"Don't," Demyx interrupted - he had more presence of mind than most people gave him credit for. "Don't say it. I mean, what are you going to do, go out and kill him? What then? What if someone decides to come back and kill you for it." He paused. "Really, sorry for saying this, but - this is the world you live in. Revenge just isn't worth it." He paused. "For me. Please, just let this go."

There was a long silence, and Zexion's eyes fell downwards to meet his own.

"Alright," he said quietly, and Demyx knew that he meant it as much as he could mean it. Which was, all things told, not much.

XXX

Axel left Cloud's small apartment only an hour or so after having arrived, with the intent, of course, to return as soon as his next job was done. Although he'd never really wanted a home - all safety issues aside - he did like having a base to work from, because if something went wrong, he didn't have to spend the time looking for another place to hide out when there was someone on his ass, and Cloud's place worked quite nicely - even if it was a hell of a lot less welcoming, now, with Aerith dead.

His job, this time, was on quite the opposite end of the city from where he had accepted Xaldin's hit - it was in the corporate section, where all the real bigshots worked. The buildings were tall and clean - traits that were really quite something - and Axel let himself hope for just a moment that he would be paid really fucking well for _this_ job, too.

Gambling could really run out your money supply pretty damn quick.

He arrived at the front of the building he was looking for within about a half-hour of wandering, and acted suitably unimpressed for the sake of the guards watching - though honestly, he couldn't remember the last time that he'd been somewhere so _nice_. He generally worked his little side of the world, and they worked theirs - and though occasionally some politician or other would hire him, mostly he lived and killed in the rough mid-sector of town, or the lower end. He liked it there, anyway.

He began to whistle casually as he put his hands in his pockets, giving a nod to the guards at the front door.

"Yo," he drawled, and they jumped rigidly to attention - they were fresh-faced and young, though one of them appeared to be even older than Axel, and the thought made him laugh.

Some people just never got a taste of the real world.

"I'm here for a job. Here to see-" he searched around for the damn name for a moment, but came up with nothing "-your boss. Outta my way."

"Sir, we have to check that with-"

"Fine," he cut in, "do whatever you want, but I'm going inside."

Fuck, one of these days he was just going to shoot these people.

He shoved them aside with only a minimum of roughness - it could almost be called positively _gentle_ by his normal standards - and opened the heavy doors with a bit of effort. The inside of the building was nice, in a clean and whitewashed sort of way, with more metal in the furniture than was probably good for them and only tiny attempts to break the stark feel by the placement of potted plants here and there.

He took a few steps in and admired it - inconspicuously, of course - before walking into the manned elevator. The elevator-man - what the fuck did you call those people, anyway? - gave him a smile so thin it looked painted on and asked him what floor he wanted to go to, to which he responded derisively, as he tended to do, and waited as the machine took them up to what was very nearly the top floor.

But the sight that greeted his eyes as the elevator slowed to a stop was much more unexpected, and also more interesting, than the goons that he could push around with little to no effort. The door opened with the screech of poorly-oiled metal, and he instantly, unbeknownst to the people standing in front of him, walked straight into someone else's argument.

"Excuse me? What in _hell_ is he doing that's so much more important?" yelled the smaller of the two, a little blonde boy - _fucking hell_, Axel's mind interrupted, _he's _gorgeous - of about sixteen, maybe a little older - _but damn, I'd hardly mind a little trouble with the authorities to tap that ass_. He was small, though tense - but he carried himself with a presence that was rare in someone so young.

The fact that he was grabbing the - much larger - door guard by the shirt also gave him some points in Axel's estimation.

The door behind the redhead closed, and he leaned with a comfortable smirk and crossed arms on the wall, watching the scene play out.

"I'm sorry, Rox - sir. You know that the boss -"

"I don't really _give_ a damn what he's supposed to be doing," the blond snarled. "Mother is sick and Sora is halfway to hysterics even if he's trying to take care of this whole goddamned family. _Sora_, Jacob," he snapped with a glint in his eyes that Axel rather liked. He was really quite the headstrong little sonovabitch - but it didn't take much brainpower to put two and two together and come up with this gorgeous little blonde as the son of the man he was about to sell his own services to.

Ah, damn. That tended to make things a little complicated.

Well, he had always been exceptionally good at avoiding consequences, and he only hoped that would hold true on this count, too.

"Excuse me," he cut in smoothly, like he always did, ignoring the stares he was getting from the two other members of the room and conveniently forgetting that this was something he had absolutely no business in. "If I can interrupt for a moment?"

There was an incredulous silence from the both of them as they turned to stare at him, which Axel pretended stood in for approval.

"I'm here to see your boss - your father, kid-" he said towards Roxas, "and though I like your fight-" a fucking hell of a lot "-I think you can rest assured that your dear old dad is doing everything he can for your poor, stricken mother at the moment."

It was really a mark of how distracted he was that he didn't even notice how much information he was giving away about himself or about his job with that statement - and even more telling was the fact that, even if he had noticed, he wouldn't have cared.

The blonde just stared at him, the utterly bewildered - and vaguely adorable - expression slowly turning into one of frustration.

"Who in hell are you?" he asked - demanded - with equal parts anger and frustration.

"Wait a minute, kid-" he started placatingly, but was quickly cut off.

"It's Roxas, not 'kid,' and what makes you think you have the right to come barging in here and talk to me like that?" He took a few long strides forward, until he was directly face to face with the redhead, and Axel couldn't help but grin.

_Holy _fuck_, this kid is hot_.

"You walk right into the middle of a very _private _conversation and offer your advice like it means something. Well, I don't want it, and you can go-"

"Whoa, whoa, ki - Roxas. Roxas-"

"-fuck yourself and head back to whatever hole it is you came from!"

Axel's grin just kept growing wider, as his astonishment multiplied exponentially. He couldn't remember the last person who'd had the guts to talk to him like that, and he loved it.

"Would it make you feel better if I offered to buy you dinner for my carelessness?" he offered, careful to keep the leer out of his voice and face. After all, he hardly wanted to scare this one off so early. He probably wasn't interested in men, anyway.

Now the astonishment had switched back to Roxas's face - it was hardly normal for someone to respond to such vehement anger with an offer of dinner, but Axel didn't give a damn.

"I can afford better places than you, anyway," he responded, eyes sliding to the floor and voice low in what Axel expected might be embarrassment.

"A bar, then. Bet you've never been to one of those." The blonde's - Roxas's - flinch told him that he was exactly right, and the uncomfortable noise that the almost-forgotten door guard made told him that it was not something that the son and heir of such a large corporation was exactly allowed to do.

Excellent.

He usually used his talent for reading people to know exactly how to scare the ever-loving shit out of them, or take everything they ever owned, but it was nice to know he could still use it for other things.

"What would make you want to do that?" Roxas asked, a bit perturbed, most likely.

"Because I like you. Because you impress me."

"What, because I yelled at you for inserting yourself into our conversation?"

Axel grinned.

"Yes. Exactly."

There was a long pause, during which Roxas gave a sidelong, almost invisible glance back towards the guard who watched him disapprovingly.

"I'll think about it," he responded, trying to keep his voice diplomatic, to keep the interest out of it - and the guard behind the blonde relaxed, which was doubtless his intention.

Fuck yes. He wanted out, wanted a little bit of freedom, and Axel was more than willing to give it to him.

"Alright, if you insist," he responded nonchalantly, pretending that he didn't know exactly what Roxas meant by that. "If you want to find me, you will." He paused. "The name's Axel, by the way. Ask for me on the street and word will make it around."

And he grinned as he walked through the door into the boss's room, because images of Roxas's face wouldn't leave him alone. Not, understand, that he particularly wanted them to.

XXX

Cloud struggled to maintain his proper breathing as he stood, alone, in one of the nicer ShinRa conference rooms. His heart was pounding like mad, which didn't help much, but it was hard to fight when just a few minutes away - a few steps even, maybe - was the General Sephiroth.

They had met only once before, when both of them had been a part of the government military rather than a part of the ShinRa forces, when the blonde had been just a nervous cadet - like now he was a nervous captain, he noted with self-deprecating amusement. The glimpses he'd been lucky enough to have of the General didn't do anything to deter the admiration - Aerith, with a knowing look in her eye, had called it worship - of the man who seemed immobile and invincible under all circumstances. Almost, perfect.

The president's son arrived first, as the President Shinra himself was out on other business - or simply uninterested in dealing with such rote business as the promotion of a captain - followed swiftly enough by a line of other captains and commanders, in dress outfit.

And then, of course, Sephiroth.

He walked in with a fluid grace that was so much a trademark that even mentioning it anymore became almost superfluous, feet making no noise even in the large boots that he seemed to always wear. He, along with the other higher ranks, had the privilege of ignoring the uniform if they so desired - so the silver and black trench coat that was his preference stood out among the sea of blue, and Cloud couldn't say that he minded.

"If we're all here then, you may be seated," he said in a voice that rolled through the room in a way that was patently, if unintentionally, sexual. It was a blessing, or a bane, that even when his voice was icy with his own steely brand of anger, it still _felt_ like velvet down the back of the listener's neck.

Or maybe it was just Cloud. He'd never asked anyone else before, and he never really intended to.

Everyone did as Sephiroth asked, including himself - though formalities said that the General had to arrive before the room could sit, he was not particularly interested in speaking to a group longer than was strictly necessary. No one really wanted to tell him otherwise, so Rufus - the president's son, and a real asshole when he wanted to be - had the honor of swearing new commanders in, including Cloud.

"I'm sure you know why we're all gathered here today," he began in a clear baritone, a voice which commanded authority. "To swear in a new Captain of the Guard, Cloud Strife. Strife, if you would stand and raise your hand -" he did both, carefully not looking at the figure seated next to Rufus even as perfectly green eyes bored into him "-and repeat after me."

He didn't notice much after that, only vaguely going through the motions that would result with him officially sworn in, officially responsible for the lives of the men serving under him, and only one level below Sephiroth in the chain of command.

He didn't really like to think about what that might mean, because the idea of holding a conversation with the General left him frozen.

Before he knew it, he was sitting down again, and Sephiroth had begun to speak about assignments and requirements - talking to _him_, he noticed with astonishment - and his brain nearly stopped entirely when he realized that his first assignment was under the "relations" category. Under the General's direct command.

"Strife, you will be accompanying me to negotiate-" oh god, accompanying him? "-with the state government and the organizations listed. As I'm sure you have heard , the head of our research department was assassinated two days ago, and it will be our job to find out who and why."

Sephiroth never went on these missions alone, of course - his people relations skills were less than admirable, but when it came to a measure of sheer intimidation, nobody could hold a candle to him.

Cloud didn't no how to respond, so he focused instead on not showing his fear. Men like Sephiroth could practically taste it.

He closed his eyes as the meeting ended, and prayed to whatever god was listening that he would please, _please_ not fuck this up.

XXX

"So, you wanted to speak with me," drawled Axel as he stood in front of a large desk that was probably intended to be imposing.

"Yes, of course. I'm glad you were available." The voice belong to a rather lightweight man with a clean-cut moustache, and a beard that was graying lightly, though his hair still was untouched by frost. Not an altogether impressive figure, truth be told. Clearly his son had gotten his looks from his mother.

"Really, now. Good, that makes two of us." The only things he was particularly glad about at the moment were the possibility of massive monetary gain, and the probability of stealing this man's pretty little son away from him. In a not so literal sense, of course - Axel wasn't about to force this one. It occurred to him momentarily that maybe, this time, he was looking for more than a quick fuck - but he pushed that thought away to be examined at a later date.

"My job for you involves killing the man who poisoned my wife."

Ooh, tough one. On the plus side, he kind of wanted to be able to tell Roxas that yeah, he'd killed the son of a bitch who'd killed his mother (the thought made him feel vaguely like a pedophile but he was ok with that). On the flip side, killing other assassins was gonna get you into a _shitload_ of trouble.

"Yeah, I gathered as much from the man you sent to find me," he responded with a thinly veiled sarcasm. "But I kind of wanted to say - if it's the same guy I'm thinking it is, he's almost as good as I am." That was a lie. "It'd hurt the Organization to lose the man in question -" not a lie "-and I dunno if I'm willing to get my ass in that kind of shit for something like that." He paused, and gave the man a level, pointed stare that made his grin that much more frightening.

"I was just wondering, Mr. High-and-Mighty, if you had _any_ idea how much shit _you _would be in if I take it?"

There was a long silence.

"Should I find someone else, then?"

"If you like. But nobody but me is even gonna have a chance at taking this - you'd have to be batshit insane to go up against the Organization."

And that, of course, is what he'd have to do in order to take down the man in question. Lucky for the man - Gabriel Tolgar, Axel remembered belatedly - the redhead had been losing interest in regular jobs. There just wasn't anything challenging enough for him anymore on the normal level - and taking on the entire fucking Organization would definitely be a challenge.

Possibly his last. But probably not.

Not knowing was what made it so interesting.

"So you'll do it?"

"Haven't decided yet." There was a silence. "You know that someone hired this guy, right? Why not go after the big fish? I mean, take down the bugger who fucked you over, and take out a business associate, all in one smooth move. Wham, you've got revenge and you've cornered the market." The man flinched, probably more at his crude language than his ideas.

"Because," the other responded slowly, " we don't want to work that way-" like hell they didn't, Axel had worked with way too many businessmen for _that_ to fly "-because we want to send a message to the world, that that behavior is not acceptable. We don't want to take down the opposition, simply to make steps to a cleaner world."

Ah, so he was afraid of repercussions for hitting the man who hired the poor shit.

Well, that was his problem.

"Just one last thing," Axel said, not exactly dissuading but making sure the man knew exactly what he was getting into - partly, at least, because he had a son who was quite possibly the coolest little fucker he'd ever laid eyes on.

"There's kind of a code that says assassins shouldn't target others of their kind - not, you understand, out of some kind of sentimental bullshit, but to prevent revenge and retribution until we're all wiped out. That means that they'd go after you." The redhead worked without a trace, so it wouldn't be _his_ problem, really. They'd never find out it was him - but they'd know who'd hired him.

To the man's credit, he didn't go white at the thought, though he did get tense in a way that was vaguely amusing.

"I understand that there is a risk, but I want that man out of the world."

Axel shrugged, grin never faltering.

"Alright then, suit yourself."

XXX

Once he quietly found out who had performed the hit - John Hutchinson, as he'd suspected, because only he worked in quite the style of the hit described - it was easy enough to perform. This time, at least, he knew exactly where the man could be found.

Of course, the fact that the idiot somewhat trusted him helped, too.

This time, at least, Axel decided not to use his favorite pistol and bullets, because they were someone recognizable to those who knew the business. Instead, he decided that a shotgun would do the trick - sawed off, of course, for use as a close-range weapon. It would create the most destruction for the least money and effort of any gun he knew how to use. That meant, of course, that it would also leave behind the strongest message. And that was what this hit was all about, right?

Besides, it was so far the opposite of his normal clean and silent method that it would just deflect suspicion from him further, and that was perfectly alright by Axel.

Hell, he'd even pretend to help Marluxia look for the culprit if the need arose.

It was a hazy dark, at about seven o'clock the next evening, when Axel decided to follow the man home. It was easy, almost too easy, when they had a distinctive home that they went back to every night. The pavement was wet from the light drizzle they'd had that afternoon, but not wet enough that Axel made any particular noise following.

Once the man had gone inside, checking quickly for visitors - Axel, of course, was hidden - it was simple enough to open a window and wait in the bedroom until his mark arrived.

It took less than thirty seconds for the hale and hearty man who walked through the door to turn into a pile of blood and entrails on the carpet. Not just the carpet, really. Also the walls, and door - the redhead cursed vehemently when he realized that a piece of the man's intestine had landed on his new coat.

He never would be able to decide whether that hit was the best or worst thing that ever happened to him.

XXX

A shorter chapter than the last one, for which I apologize, and also it took me longer to finish… but I've been busy getting ready to move, so I sincerely apologize.

I love you all so very much, I have no words to express it…

333

Drop a line if you like it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was late - or rather, early - when Zexion returned to the apartment he shared with his lover, trying his best to be quiet and not wake the blonde as he padded across the room with an ease born of practice. Demyx, however, accustomed both to his lover's silence and to the odd hours he kept, woke as the assassin opened a drawer on the side of the dresser.

"So how was work?" he asked sleepily, not quite opening his eyes and clearly not quite coherent - but it made Zexion smile, almost imperceptibly, because the question was so innocent despite what they both knew that he did.

"Work went well. How was the club?" Of course he wouldn't say that he hadn't precisely _been_ at work that day, because that would raise questions. He had been researching - trying to find out who had been hired to kill Lexaeus, and who the payer was. This was not, of course, to deal death to them in kind - but he might, if he could, make their lives as miserable as all of his considerable cunning could manage.

"They were kind of drunk off their asses, so anything we played sounded good," Demyx responded with bleary amusement, shifting to his side to look at his lover better. Zexion's lip twitched into a sort of half-smile at that.

There was a long silence as the blonde examined him intently, and he shifted his eyes so that the other couldn't quite see, maybe, what he was thinking. He tended to be disturbingly good at that.

"You worried about something?" he asked, with that look on his face that said that he _knew_.

"No," Zexion dismissed him quietly, taking off his shoes meticulously as he sat down on the bed next to his lover.

Demyx sighed, and the assassin wished, only for a moment, that he didn't have to lie. But that was one of the scruples that died quickly In his line of work.

"Alright, fine then." He paused. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you something."

The assassin responded with silence as he moved towards the bed and sat down, not allowing himself to do anything as mind-numbingly sentimental as reach out to stroke the other's palely lit face.

"Do you… do you think you could take some more time off, soon?" he whispered, voice uncertain and wavering.

"Why?" Zexion asked, instantly stiffening - if something had happened…

"Nothing bad, stupid," Demyx admonished gently, as if reading his mind. "I just… I miss seeing you. You've been gone so much, you know?" He paused. "Do you think you could? I mean, if you've been doing something important, then…" he added quickly. The other felt a strange twist in his chest as he realized that his lover was trying to give him an out, a way to say no if he didn't want to agree, if he didn't want to be with the other man any more than he had to.

He was more inclined to curse at that particular moment than possibly he had ever been - because evidently he had been doing something terribly wrong.

"Yes. No," he said, and winced at his own stupidity. "Ah, that is - I will request more time off work," he finally managed, clumsily, and allowed himself the luxury of reaching out to stroke his lover's cihn.

_No, I'm not avoiding you. No, I don't want to leave you, don't be an idiot. _

He didn't actually say what he was thinking, but he hoped that it was clear enough.

It took him only a moment to decide to lean in to place a kiss on his lover's inviting lips, and only another few seconds for Demyx's hands to meet as the threaded themselves through his slate-grey hair.

But, despite that, he couldn't help but feel like this wasn't over with, that he hadn't fixed it, because for once, he couldn't feel his lover smiling into the kiss - and the feeling of the loss, the absence, lodged itself into a pit in his stomach, for reasons he couldn't quite define.

He swiped his tongue across the other's bottom lip, hoping to forget the knot of fear through the sound of his lover's breathy moans.

XXX

Axel walked into the meeting room with his usual confident swagger, though he knew exactly what they were meeting about and how much of a risk it could be to him if he wasn't in absolute, complete control of himself at all times. Which he was, so that wasn't really a problem.

However, Zexion's disapproving - if not downright hateful - eye on him might be, if he let it linger long enough. He supposed that it was bound to happen that way, the other assassin being smart as fuck and really interested in knowing the details of his friend's death.

He smirked, and contemplated that some people just couldn't help getting attached. A shame, really.

The room appeared to be filled with all of the members of the Organization who actually mattered - about twenty, maybe thirty, heads. All of them were seated around a long meeting-table rather restlessly, and the redhead couldn't help but notice that a few familiar faces were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they were dead, maybe they were in jail - but the Organization was better off, either way.

"Axel, you've finally arrived," Marluxia stated in a clear deadpan, interrupting his thoughts - he was, of course, a master at pretending that he was effortlessly above any tension that might have appeared between two of his best killers.

" 'Course. You called and I came, master," he responded, lightly mocking, and the room rippled with what could have been annoyance or repressed amusement. He didn't really give a damn.

The other man didn't respond, more than used to Axel's jibing.

"If we could all be seated," he said smoothly, though his words were clearly pointed at the newest arrival, "we can begin." He didn't wait for a response.

"Some of you may have heard that last night, one of our number was killed. John Hutchinson was taken down by shotgun in his residence - mutilated to the point that he was barely recognizable. The signs point to this having been a hit, rather than random violence."

Axel schooled his face into an expression of surprise, and maybe a bit of derision - because any assassin who let himself get killed deserved to be dead, regardless of who had killed him.

"Clearly, the man who paid for the kill was intending to send a message to us, possibly for vengeance or out of some moral code. However," he continued, "that isn't the chief issue. The problem is that there is an assassin, somewhere, who killed another of his kind."

There was a murmur of assent - the killer would be, then, a rogue; he flaunted their only rule. It was simple enough, really - in order to keep their profession from endless feuds and squabbles, no person associated with the Organization could kill another of the same profession.

"The rogue left no trail and no marks, and though we are attempting to identify him, our information still is unclear on that point."

"So, then," Zexion interrupted with a gleam in his eye that would have been dangerous in other company, "Are we going to take out the man who bought the hit? As an example, of course."

Axel's expression didn't change, but his mind was running wildly - he had been afraid of that, or maybe anticipating it, or both. On the one hand, Roxas - the kid with the attitude, the blonde that he kind of fucking wanted to _see_ again, as stupid as it would be - and the kid's family, he supposed, would suddenly be in the gun sight of the most powerful men in the city, possibly in the country. On the other hand, he would get to test himself out against the entire goddamned Organization - and that was a disturbingly appealing thought.

"That had been the idea," Marluxia responded, expression cool and sharp as a lance. "We think we know the employer - Hutchinson performed a hit against the wife of a major businessman a few weeks ago."

"Makes sense," Axel drawled, cutting in. "Guy's wife gets offed, he's a pissed off idiot and hires some dumb shit to go kill the guy who did her in."

"She's not dead yet," the other man corrected, "but I think that should be our first order of business."

"Punishment to the family as well, then?" asked another.

"I would think that went without saying."

Axel grinned at those words, expression fierce in its caprice.

_Perfect_.

XXX

Roxas found out that his mother was going to live the evening after his outburst at his father's office. The doctor was pale with a relief that the blonde was sure was mirrored in his own face, and his younger brother gave a cry of delight from beside him. Usually, Sora's exuberant nature was a mild annoyance, irritating and endearing both at the same time - but today, Roxas was so glad to hear the brunette sound _happy_ again that he didn't care. Even though it had only been a few weeks since the poisoning, every day had been a long, slow torture, and he could feel the relief, the release of tension, almost tangibly.

"So can I go see her?" Sora asked brightly, all traces of the pain they both had grown to know so well gone from his face, and Roxas was startled for just a moment by how very young he was. The other was not so very much younger than himself, maybe, but he gave off an aura of innocence that belied the force of will he had hidden under his mess of hair and vividly blue eyes.

While it was true that Sora had always needed a little bit of looking-after, from a practical sort of perspective, but Roxas found himself looking towards the younger boy for advice disturbingly often. Ever since their mother's poisoning, he had increasingly become a source of comfort and support for his older brother - because somehow, he always knew when Roxas needed something, even if he was too proud to ask.

"Not right now," the doctor replied with just a hint of condescension, and the blonde could hardly stop the spark of anger that coursed down his spine at that. Hadn't they been through enough to get some tiny fucking bit of respect from people? Of course not.

"Your mother is resting," the doctor continued, sweat beading on his upper lip. "We found the antidote, but her body still has to do the rest. She's a very lucky woman."

_Yeah, if she'd had more than a sip of that cocktail, she'd be dead. We know._

"So she's alright after all," drawled a voice from a corner, and Roxas stiffened almost imperceptibly at the familiarity of the tone. "That's good, at least. You'd better get her the fuck out of here, though, while you still can."

Roxas noted, half with amusement, half with irritation, that this guy - Axel, he remembered - definitely seemed to have a flair for the dramatic.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" he snapped as he turned, glaring, to face the other man. He didn't seem phased at all, really - that smirk still hadn't moved, and the blonde was beginning to think that maybe it was _permanent_. A quick glance revealed two green marks on his cheeks that looked like tattoos, that definitely hadn't been there at their last meeting. Probably painted on. The boy didn't know why that disturbed him so much.

"Roxas? Do you know this guy?" asked Sora with a bewildered sort of look from beside him, ignoring the doctor as he made some excuses and shuffled off.

"Not really," the elder responded, hard stare unmoving. "He showed up at Father's office the other day, and proved that he didn't quite have all his screws in right. That's all."

Selective memory was a wonderful thing, because he kept telling himself that he _really_ didn't almost accept the redhead's invitation. Never happened.

"Aw, I'm hurt," the other responded in a theatrically wounded tone, eyes flickering from one brother to the other. "I think I deserve some gratitude. After all, I'm just here to save your asses."

There was a heartbeat's pause, and Roxas glanced over at his brother, still as confused as ever.

"Sora, you should probably leave." The unspoken part of that was clear enough. _I don't want you involved in whatever the fuck this is._

"Only if you promise to tell me everything later," the brunette responded.

A nod. As much as he could, anyway.

Sora took off, uncharacteristically, without saying another word - likely to go worm his way into their mother's sick-room. He wasn't a personality that was easily denied.

As soon as the brunette was out of hearing range, Roxas took a few steps closer to the intruder, and began to speak, keeping his voice low.

"You were saying?" he asked, chest tense with a nervousness that he was loathe to show or to admit. Showing weakness in front of this guy - he was shady, that much even the blonde could tell - would be a trail to disaster.

"Yeah, an organization of assassins is out to skewer all your asses," he commented almost conversationally, waving dismissively with his left hand.

Roxas went cold at that - he knew this guy was mixed up with some fucked up people. He took a deep breath, not letting his growing anger interfere with his logic - he would at least hear the guy out. After all, he had come to inform them. If he had wanted them dead, they probably would have been already.

"Why might this be?" the blonde asked frostily.

"Well, coupla reasons. It's kinda complicated,"

Roxas raised an eyebrow.

"And I don't deserve to know them," he responded, tone growing sharper by the instant.

"Hey, no, it's not like that," Axel said, wide-eyed, and put his hands up in an innocent gesture. "I just don't want you any more involved than you've gotta be. Take it easy, kid," he drawled with a slow grin that was only growing bigger.

"If I'm involved already, I want to know exactly what the fuck is going on," the younger shot back. "I'm not gonna be led around in the dark like an idiot."

The redhead laughed quietly and crossed his arms.

"Alright, alright. You win," he chuckled, not sounding too upset with that particular circumstance. "Short story is, you need to get out of Chicago. Long story involves your dad hiring me to kill the guy who tried to do your mother in."

Roxas noted absently how little this admission surprised him. The facts that Axel was an assassin and that his own father had hired one were equally unremarkable. They just seemed to fit.

He didn't know whether that said more about himself or about his family, and he didn't want to think about it.

"…So this guy's friends are going to take revenge on us because you killed him? Why don't they just kill you instead? Your fault, after all," he responded bitingly.

"Sharp kid," Axel responded, clearly impressed. "First off, not exactly revenge - more like a warning. Secondly, only 'friends' if by that you mean 'one of the biggest hitman organizations in the country.'" He paused and took a breath. "And as for that last part, it's really only because they don't know who did it. I'm just that good," he said with a confident grin.

Fuck, that guy was arrogant. Considering his line of work and how quickly something like that would get you killed if you couldn't live up to it, that probably meant that he _really_ knew what he was doing.

But something just didn't quite click.

"If you're such a bleeding-heart, then - coming and telling us about this shit - why don't you just turn yourself in?" he questioned in a tone that was more accusing than anything.

Axel gave a barking laugh at that.

"Listen, kid, they're not generous enough that they'd let you live even if I did go and tell them I made the hit. Right now, they think I'm one of them, and because of that I am your best fucking chance at living another week."

Roxas nodded, slowly, taking it all in and focusing on keeping up his collected exterior.

"So, then, you want us to get out of the city." A pause. "My father's not going to go for that."

"Tch, then he's gonna be dead. I can only do so much, kid, and one of the things I can't do is be in more than one place at once."

That statement hit Roxas like a train-car, and his demeanor warmed without his realizing it. It had never occurred to him that this guy, some thug off the streets, would be willing to risk his life to keep them safe.

"What?" Another pause. "You're going to be guarding us?"

Axel shrugged, face carefully schooled to show nothing.

"More or less," he responded with an attempt at being casual.

"Fucking hell, _why?!_ I wouldn't have pegged you as the self-sacrificing type, no offense meant." The blonde ran a hand through his hair, tension finally building back up to uncomfortable levels.

"I'm not," he responded with a humorless smile. "But I'm also not a monster."

"You kill people for a living," Roxas pointed out dryly.

"Yeah, I know. But I'm still gonna save your ass." He stopped for a moment, expression growing darker even as his grin returned. "And, I get to face off the Organization, head to head. Them against me."

There was a moment when that sentence hung in the air between them, as if neither wanted to touch it again - but the blonde shook off the uneasy feeling, moving on awkwardly to another topic.

"So what do you want in return?" he questioned as it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't been nearly as suspicious of Axel's motives as he should have been. Payment, clearly, was an issue. "And also, won't they figure out that we've had help if the whole family suddenly packs up on a business trip? Doesn't that get _your_ ass on the target, if they find you with us?"

"If I didn't know what I was doing, then fuck yes." He paused, the look of amusement back on his face.. "Look, Rox," he continued, ignoring how Roxas winced at the nickname, "It's not a good business plan to go telling your customers just exactly what you'll be doing. But… here's th' catch. "

Of course. There was always a catch.

"You gotta do what I say, shrimp," he informed the other, still smirking. "That means pretty much everything. Oh, and I'm living with you."

Roxas made a weak little noise in his throat that he was sure he meant to be a protest, but he was so utterly flabbergasted by the… the _wierdness_ of the whole thing that his mouth wasn't quite making words.

"What about calling the police?" he finally managed, though his question was cut off abruptly by a snort of laughter.

"Kid, your dad hired me to kill some dumb fuck. If you called the police I'd be off faster'n a fuckin' train car, they'd arrest your dear father, and he'd get killed in jail within two days while you guys waited for the night when Larxene'd show up in your bedroom to take your cock as a trophy before she disemboweled you. And trust me, that is not a pretty way to die," Axel drawled, entirely too smoothly.

Roxas tried to force himself not to think about it, but he could feel the blood draining from his face.

"And if they see that you're staying at my place?"

"Nobody's lookin' at me until I make a spectacle of myself. Organization members can disappear for fuckin' _months_ and nobody asks where they are."

The blonde shook his head in wide-eyed disbelief. This might take a while to filter through..

"So your plan is… get my parents and brother out of the city, keep _me_ here, live with me for the next couple of months, and do what, exactly?"

The redhead didn't respond immediately - he stared off into the distance with a frightening kind of intensity, grin half-falling as if he wasn't sure whether her wanted to keep it or not. The expression in his eyes was wild, almost insane - and for the first time since meeting the other man, Roxas felt truly frightened.

"They're going to come looking for you, and I'm going to kill them. One by fucking one."

XXX

It was rather uncharacteristic of him, Marluxia mused as he put his scythe to Larxene's throat, that he didn't get tired of teaching her this lesson, over and over again. No matter how many times she'd fight him, she'd disobey him, she never learned that he was simply better than her. But somehow, he found her lack of logical self-restraint fascinating.

"What? You're gonna beat me and not kill me again?" she spat, eyes flashing with anger that fit disturbingly well with the creepy smile on her face. "I'd think you'd have more guts, being the leader of the Organization. Who the fuck put you in charge, anyway? You'd think that they'd put someone here with more balls."

Marluxia laughed almost silently and dug the point of his scythe a tiny bit further into her neck, where a thin line of blood erupted without warning.

He noted with a mixture of amusement and annoyance that she looked good like that.

"No, I'm not going to kill you," he responded at length, ignoring her jibes. She was a challenge, a fighter - and bending her to his will seemed strangely appealing.

He told himself, later, that it was for that reason he bent over his scythe and kissed her - painfully, all teeth and fury, catching, tearing around the crimson taste of blood.

"Fuck… you…" she breathed as they pulled apart, and in one swift motion she had jabbed a dagger into his thigh and pushed him down on the ground to finish where they left off.

He didn't know why that made him smile.

XXX

"Cloud! Man, sorry I couldn't make it to the meeting, got caught up doing something for the boss. How'd it go?" Zack asked as he caught his friend in a rather decrepit hallway of the ShinRa building somewhat later in the morning, throwing an arm around the new captain's shoulders companionably. He was, as usual, overly enthusiastic for the time of day - but Cloud couldn't exactly say he minded. The older man had taken him on as a project a year or so ago, after Aerith's death, deciding that it was his duty to make sure the blonde smiled every so often. Though he didn't always achieve what he had originally intended, they had somehow managed to become friends and stay that way.

"It went… it went well," the younger finally muttered, trying in vain to cut the subject short.

He knew he was out of luck because Zack's eyes were sparkling with a familiar kind of mischievousness, and that usually meant trouble for him.

"So… I heard some guys talking today. You want to know what they said?"

Cloud didn't bother to answer because he knew his friend would go on anyway. The man did, quite happily, while dragging his friend off by the shoulders in the general direction of the mess hall.

"They said that you had a mission with Seph coming up." The blonde kept his face straight quite expertly - he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about it, but he refused to make an idiot out of himself either way.

"Yeah. What about it?"

Zack grinned wider as they entered the mess - it was teeming with people at this time of day, Turks and guards and just workers chatting politely. Being polite was, after all, the smart thing to do when any given person in the room could probably kill you.

"Ah, don't get too riled up about it, Spike. It's like an initiation - they know that Sephiroth can be a royal asshole, so they put the rookie captains through one mission with him at the very beginning just to see how they'll hold up. He doesn't mind because he gets to test each one individually." He gave the younger another look as he picked up a bowl from the stack, to wait in line for the same watery and unpalatable gruel substitute that they had every day. Even a company like ShinRa couldn't afford to properly feed its employees, it seemed.

"Good to know," the blonde responded tonelessly, having long been desensitized to the nickname.

"So, then, it's my job to give you a little bit of advice! From one friend to another, you understand."

Cloud groaned silently - Zack's constant interference in his life was well-meaning, but slightly incompetent, if slightly incompetent could mean "tending towards utter failure." He had a moment to wonder why he hadn't run the moment he'd realized what his friend was going to do before he was fairly well dragged off to a table in the back corner.

"Well, you know," the older began, "Sephiroth is hardly a normal person, so you can't exactly expect him to react like one. He doesn't like hero-worship-" Cloud winced internally at that one "-so you'd better turn that down, kiddo. More importantly, on this mission, you're going to be the mouth and in charge of actually negotiating, while Sephiroth is there for intimidation value, but don't let him intimidate _you._ He's a pretty decent guy, really."

The younger hoped for a moment that the other's advice could be trusted on this subject, at least - Zack and Sephiroth were friends, as much as the man ever made friends. The captain could do that, because was the sort of person who sat himself down in your life without so much as a "please" and started rearranging your mental furniture, whether you liked it or not - usually not - until you couldn't even remember what your couch had looked like without him. When he decided you were friends, he didn't give you a chance to argue.

"But on a different sort of note," the man continued, "make sure you respond to him when he talks to you, 'cause it's probably important. You get tongue-tied and just don't say anything when you're awkward - don't do that. And more importantly, don't stare-"

"I don't-" came Cloud's strangled attempt at a reply.

"-yes you do, trust me. Don't stare, don't freeze up, and please don't take it hard if he tells you what you're doing wrong pretty bluntly - sometimes even his comments can sound like criticism. Don't ignore it, 'cause he's usually right, but don't focus on it either. He just doesn't get that it can hurt people."

The blonde nodded, almost nervous, but more amused by Zack's tirade than he had strictly intended to be. It was, he admitted silently, vaguely endearing.

"That's… good to know," he responded, wincing as he took a bite of his meal. Gruel was one of the things in the world that repetition did not improve.

"Yeah. Don't get freaked out about it." He paused a moment, and flashed that grin of his - the one had the local ladies simpering and twittering. "I have some good news for you, anyway. I'm going be going with on your little trip, 'cause firstly, the mission's too important to be trusted to only one rookie - no offense meant, Spike - and also, 'cause I know that you and Sephiroth have about as much chance of having a decent conversation without assistance as Reno does of having sex with someone more than once."

Cloud blinked, trying to take all that in.

"So wait… you're coming to make sure I don't screw up?" He couldn't help but be slightly annoyed by that fact.

"No, I'm coming because both of you are incapable of just letting loose for a couple of minutes. You'd sit together in awkward silence until you had freaked yourself out and he was annoyed." He suddenly picked his spoon up with a dramatic flourish and began to eat his gruel with a vigorous and largely imaginary relish.

It occurred to Cloud that this was frustrating, but true - neither were exactly the talkative types, and any time spent together would likely be irredeemably uncomfortable.

"I don't need your help, Zack," he stated quietly, though he appreciated the gesture.

"Yeah you do. You're hopeless," Zack responded with a fond grin, reaching over to ruffle the younger's hair and only laughing when Cloud indignantly batted it away.

"It's no different than any other assignment I've ever been on," he muttered, and meant it - nothing was ever going to happen between them, so it would just be wasted effort to try.

A flicker of something passed across Zack's eyes at those words, but it was gone before the blonde could tell what it meant, fading into his friend's easy smile.

"Yeah, it is, you know it is. You want to make a good impression, don't you?"

"Yes, he's my superior officer."

"Bullshit, Cloud, and you know it," he shot back, voice steady and gaze level.

"Nothing's ever going to happen between us-"

"You don't know that," Zack interrupted, "and besides, what's wrong with being friends? Seriously, you both could use a couple more of those."

The younger took another bite of his gruel and didn't answer. He'd given his response already - but though he thought it was unnecessary, he still appreciated the fact that his friend was willing to help so unconditionally.

"Thanks anyway, Zack."

"No problem, Spike," he said with that confident grin, and Cloud, despite himself, smiled back.

XXX

Zexion knew, when he received the summons to Marluxia's office not long after the meeting regarding their rogue, what was waiting for him. He simply did not want to admit it to himself.

"Zexion, please. Sit down," Marluxia stated silkily from his plush armchair, stare hard.

The assassin nodded gracefully in response, taking the offered seat without protest.

"I assume you have some idea why I've called you here?"

"Some."

Marluxia nodded, in assent or in appreciation he couldn't tell.

"I want you to organize the team that will be taking out that family. What we're looking for is subtlety - without it, the extermination of an entire highly respected family would make our organization far too visible. I want you to make sure that they die one by one, and that none ever can go to the police without fear for their life." He paused, face marble in its stillness. "Is that quite clearly understood?"

"Quite."

Zexion stood up, then, and with a nod to his superior, he left without another word.

He didn't know what the fuck he was getting into.

XXX

XXX

I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this finished, guys… hides self I was having some serious issues with it, which seem to be resolved now! For a while I was going to drop the whole thing with Seph and Cloud, then it was back in again, then it was out - and now I think I can say with a fair amount of confidence that it's in to stay, because I've figured it out (I think).

Also, go read Surgeon General's Warning, by Dualism, if for some inexplicable reason you haven't already.

Anyway, my love for you all is inexplicable and rather overwhelming.

Drop a line? You make my life when you do!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"So then, if we follow this guy's orders," Sora began tentatively, testing out his still shaky knowledge of the situation, "then I'd have to leave, and Mom and Dad. But you'd stay." He paused, and Roxas sighed, surreptitiously watching Axel make a silent exit. "Why would you be staying, again?"

"Because he's asking me to," Roxas responded, not sure how much more he should say than that. He scuffed a patent-leather shoe on the marble tile absently, not really caring that he was making streaks on the floor of his entry-hall. Ignoring the echoes that the squeaks of rubber on stone made, he continued. "Because if I stay, he says he'll be my bodyguard."

Sora, being a naturally trusting individual, didn't think to question the truth of that statement - but he was still sharper than his older brother often gave him credit for, and the kid was suspicious.

"So you're going to be bait, then?" he asked, clearly trying to keep the accusatory tones out of his voice as he brushed an imaginary piece of lint off of his impeccably tailored pants. That outfit was Sora's one little rebellion against the rigidly crafted life their father loved to try making for them - black all over with ridiculous little straps in various colors that didn't have any purpose whatsoever other than appearing to strangle his pants in horrible, vicious ways that disturbed Roxas more than a little.

The blonde winced at the other's question.

"Um, possibly - he wasn't exactly clear on that point. But he's going to be staying and protecting me," he continued, as if that made everything better. His customary scowl only grew, out of frustration that clenched in his gut like a fist, and had the good grace to feel a little bad about it - Sora was a little sensitive, after all - even though his younger brother knew that it was his way of dealing with shit.

"I still don't like it. I don't want to run away and leave you-"

"You're not running away," the blonde interrupted with an exasperated tone.

"-at the mercy of these crazy guys. I don't want to leave you alone. Besides, I can take care of myself, too."

Nobody knew that better than Roxas, but Sora was _still_ his kid brother, and he knew, somehow, that letting his brother stay in Chicago - no matter how good he was at keeping himself out of trouble under normal circumstances - was an invitation to disaster. He could feel it on the back of his neck as easily as he could feel the draft from the creaky window by the left of their front door.

"Sora, if I didn't have to stay, I wouldn't either. Just because I have to go paint a target on my neck and wait 'till they decide to spear me through with their fingers doesn't mean that _you _get to do it, too," he responded with a dry, morbid amusement that had more than a little streak of fatalism. Sora didn't look too amused, but then, he had never really appreciated brother's sense of humor.

"Roxas, don't be an idiot… Don't stay. You can come with us, we'll go to New York-"

"And do what, exactly?" Roxas interrupted, snapping back more harshly than maybe he intended and cringing at that realization. He continued on smoothly, pretending that the look on Sora's face wasn't a little bit hurt. "Wait _there_ till they kill us? Axel's said that this is what he wants in order to protect us. He's our best chance, Sora, and I'm not going to waste the chance he's giving you by not doing what he wants."

No matter what happened, whether the crazy redhead who was all sharp lines and angles was lying or not - and he seemed like the type who would - that wasn't a risk he was willing to take. If Axel was lying, if he wasn't going to protect them, then they were all fucked anyway.

Maybe it was strange, and naïve and trusting of him, but he didn't think that the other man was lying, for some reason - and so, trusting the man, the professional liar and killer, seemed like the best option. The only option.

He almost laughed at that, but restrained himself - knowing that when he finally did, he would be absolutely, one hundred percent certifiably fucking insane.

XXX

Demyx was almost certain that Zexion's face was about twenty minutes from freezing like that, he noted from his position on their couch as he watched his lover go about making tea on their new gas stove. Tea, it was clear from the duration of their acquaintanceship, was Zexion's way of dealing when things went wrong - so the blonde could only now assume that something wasn't quite right.

"So what is it?" Demyx asked with a tolerant little smile, stretching out along the cushions and putting his hands behind his head.

"What do you mean?" Zexion responded tonelessly, back to his lover as he poured two cups, letting the strainers sit for a bit before removing them.

"What's wrong?" the other continued smoothly, though he knew that his lover realized exactly what he was asking.

"Nothing," came the assassin's reply, carefully devoid of inflection in the way he had mastered. He didn't turn back towards the couch, but instead began to clean the strainers in a bowl of fresh water as the tea cooled.

"Oh, come on, Zexy. I know you're thinking about something. Give me a little bit more credit than that." Demyx allowed himself a tiny smirk then, because his lover had stopped wincing at the nickname, and that in itself was quite the victory.

"Thinking about something is not the same as being bothered by something," Zexion mentioned dryly, finally turning around with one powdered pink, rose-print teacup in each hand. Demyx had given them as a gift - a joke, of sorts, about Zexion's domesticity - but he'd never expected the man to ever use them, though he couldn't say that it didn't amuse him every time.

"Yeah, that's true. But you're bothered by something," the blonde said, accepting his teacup with a quiet murmur of thanks to his lover as he scooted over, arranging himself to be in a better position for sharing his seat with another person.

"It's nothing. Just some trouble at work," the assassin responded haltingly, probably trying to find the best words. "I'm afraid that I may again have an assignment that will require more time of me. I'm attempting to find a way through which I can reduce the requirements in that area," he informed the other in a manner that might have seemed casual if it weren't for the tense line of his neck.

_He's afraid of making me upset_, Demyx thought with no small amount of wonder, doing quite a fair job of ignoring the small niggling feeling that he wasn't quite getting the whole story. He mentally shelved that side of the matter for the moment, blind to the flashing signs that said he was taking the first confident steps on the path to self-denial with a kind of surety that made it almost intentional - but, regardless of that, the fact was that Zexion was actually attempting to account for his feelings, which was strange and also kind of sweet.

"Are you actually paying attention to what I said the other day?" the blonde asked, voice full of surprise that was kept mild only by force of will. "I mean, you and your work have always been -"

"I will not ignore you if you ask me for something," came his measured reply as he took a sip of his tea, and Demyx did the same, the exotic taste of jasmine rolling across his tongue.

He didn't like that response.

"Look, Zexion," he muttered, eyes not leaving a spot of the carpet in front of him, "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. If you don't want to cut down your hours, then you don't have to."

The man beside him looked up sharply, a look of faint surprise registering on his normally stoic face, and he set his teacup down on the table beside their couch, trailing a finger absently through the condensation on the side.

"That is… not what I meant," the man murmured, gaze focused now on his lover, and Demyx shifted uncomfortably under the piercing stare, unable to help feeling like had somehow done something wrong.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I meant," Zexion began deliberately, carefully, "simply that I do not want to displease you. If I wanted to ignore your wishes, you can rest assured that I would," he said with a little smile that made Demyx smile in return, because it was honest.

"Is that so?" the blonde asked suddenly, struck by inspiration. "You don't want to ignore what I want?"

"Yes…" the other responded suspiciously, unsure of where this was going.

"In that case," he began with a cheeky grin, "you know I've really been wanting a singer to go along with my show next week, and if you're not doing anything, since your voice was always so nice…"

Zexion raised a delicate eyebrow.

"You know who you're performing for next week," he began, tone faintly amused and almost disbelieving. Demyx nodded, grin only growing - he was one of the few musicians trusted to play in one of the nicer downtown bars, frequented as it was by Marluxia and many of the higher-ups in the Organization.

"Sure do."

There was a long pause, and the assassin raised his eyebrow to a height that the other could have honestly sworn was a physical impossibility.

"This is where I start ignoring you," he responded primly, standing to leave as if he had just been greatly offended, and Demyx's laughter followed him out.

XXX

The morning was cool and breezy, though somewhat marred by the warm and pungent scent of refuse that the wind carried carelessly across the city. However, for a man who had survived the stench of blood and death that was almost as much a part of the battlefield as the adrenaline and cannon fire, it was barely even noticeable.

Sephiroth took a deep breath, eyes closed as the sun came up over the horizon, light touching on him first as he sat, crosslegged and shirtless, on the top of the ShinRa tower, where he preferred to spend his mornings, if he was able, meditating in a fashion he had picked up during his time in China with the British.

"Hey, Seph! Thought I'd find you up here," came a voice from behind him, and he couldn't help but flinch, though he knew who it was almost instantly - Zack Fair, somehow captain of a squad and also ShinRa's resident imbecile, whose antics the General tolerated with what he liked to think was silent horror, but which often ran closer to amusement than he'd like to admit.

He didn't respond to the other man and kept his eyes closed, hoping futilely that the other man would get the hint and go away.

"So I've been listening in on the boss's conversations," he informed the other without a hint of remorse, "and I found out an interesting little tidbit of information. Thought you might like to hear it, even though there'll prob'ly be an official announcement pretty quick."

"It doesn't look like I have much of an option, do I?" Sephiroth murmured, finally opening his eyes to be met with Zack's grin, which never seemed to change no matter the circumstances.

" 'Course not," he agreed without missing a beat. "In any case, there's been this guy up at headquarters trying to pull in a couple of favors to get use of ShinRa's private army. What d'you think about that, huh?"

"I think he's an idiot," the General responded dryly. "ShinRa serves no interests but its own."

"Yeah, you'd think that, wouldn't you?" the other man continued, "But apparently the Board is putting pressure on the old man to do it."

"Strange," he commented tonelessly, neither voice nor face betraying any interest.

"Because apparently what he's looking for is a guard for his family. I know, I know, ShinRa's not sentimental like that - but evidently the guys they're wanting to be protected from are the same guys you and Spike are gonna go talk to tomorrow. The guys who maybe - probably," he corrected himself, "killed Hojo, the old bastard. Not that he didn't deserve it," the captain muttered, and Sephiroth couldn't say that he didn't agree.

"So then, I assume it will be my job to ascertain their guilt, and if they are guilty-"

"Then your next assignment will probably be to take this guarding job and kill the sons of bitches with an excuse, yeah. That way they won't retaliate. Probably."

"Or if they're all dead, it won't matter," Sephiroth continued, partially to himself - this was probably the thinking of most of the Board. The paltry lives of soldiers lost in the battle was nothing in comparison to the pursuit of vengeance.

"So your assignment's important, man. Negotiating with the bastards is kind of important, sure, but failing that - anyway, if we can get through this by diplomacy alone, then we won't take the job this guy's offering and won't have to worry about dying horribly in our sleep," he quipped with his customary smirk. "So I've taken the liberty of inviting myself along, to help with the whole process, y'know? Make sure you and Spike - that's Captain Cloud, just so you know - get along."

"God help us then," the General murmured in response, lips quirked up into a little half smile as Zack gave a vehement nod, completely missing the thinly veiled insult.

"Yeah. God help us - wait, what?"

As he dodged his friend's only half-serious punch, it occurred to him that perhaps the assignment wouldn't be quite so intolerable after all.

XXX

When night fell, it found Axel and Demyx absolutely wasted in a bar on the south side of the city, having a rather philosophical discussion on the purpose of humanity in general in between singing campy cabaret songs over the noise of a clumsy man on a badly tuned piano, which both had agreed would never be discussed under pain of death.

"Ser'ously, man," the redhead slurred during the latter part of their conversation, weaving back and forth in his seat until he found a rather comfortable position leaning on his drinking buddy, "We're jus' here to fuck th' place over. I mean, it's like, if there was a god he'd be laughin' his fuckin' ass off 'cause he's got a damn twisted sense o' humor, y'know? We fuck each other over, fuck each other proper, get wasted, then up 'n die."

"You're being fatalistic," Demyx pointed out, and the other noticed with amusement that his words were much clearer than they normally would have been as he tried to convince himself that he wasn't drunk at all, despite the four alcoholic beverages in which his blood was now floating. "If you'd ever been in love," he continued, and Axel almost choked on the gut-busting sentimentality of it, "you'd realize that there's more to life than death 'n taxes." The blonde's left hand tapped out the harmony chords that the musician of the establishment was butchering so astonishingly, and the redhead put his head back down on the bar, next to his beer that was still far too full. He'd have to fix that.

"Kid, I dunno _how _the fuck ya do it," he drawled as his lips missed the rim of his glass for the second time in a row, "but life ain't all primroses and shit," he finished incoherently with a vague gesture that might have once been intended for emphasis. "If ya live in th' city you're either killin' someone or lettin' 'em fuck you in ways that aren' nearly as much fun as they oughta be," he continued, leering at the pretty bartender. "Love doesn' even come into it."

"Call it whatever," the musician argued, "it's somethin' that goes and makes our lives better. I mean, have you never gone and done something for someone else just because you wanted to? Something that would require work from you or something, and you did it anyway?" Demyx asked, flapping his hand rather drunkenly.

Axel didn't respond immediately, instead staring rather sullenly at the froth on his now-refilled beer - because offering to protect Roxas's family from the Organization's vengeance was beginning, with the help of mind-altering substances, to look just like that sort of selfless act.

"Eh, that sort of shit'll get me killed," he mumbled, more trying to convince himself than anyone else, he suspected silently.

"Oh?" Demyx asked, ears perking up almost visibly - clearly he had picked up the undertones in Axel's statement, which was why getting drunk with people you knew was generally a bad idea. "Are you speaking from personal experience, here?"

Demyx, of course, had no idea about Axel's sudden magnanimous and massively fucking idiotic change of heart - the redhead couldn't afford to let him know when he was madly in love with one of the redhead's chief threats.

" 'Course not," Axel drawled, ability to coherently think up excuses somewhat lessened by the severity of his inebriation. "Just, if I ever did shit like that, you understand."

The musician gave him a disapproving look that might have made a lesser man cower. Good thing Axel wasn't a lesser man, then - in fact, it occurred to him, he was quite a bit of man. He would have informed the other of this fact if he hadn't been cut off by Demyx's derisive snort.

"You're a bad liar when you've had too much t' drink," he informed the other, finally deciding not to bother with enunciation. "There's something happening that you haven't told me about."

"Can never have too much to drink," came the other's muttered response. "And if I haven't told you yet, what makes you think I'm going to?"

Demyx shrugged, and Axel's room tilted very slightly on its side.

"Well, if you don't want to, you don't _have_ to - but it looks like you're gettin' a bit of selflessness anyway. I guess it grows over time, like brambles or something," the musician noted philosophically. "And whoever the kid is that's made you decide to do something worthwhile in your life - no, don't deny it, he's a little blonde kid; I know how your tastes run, and that nothin' else could have made you grow a conscience - whoever the kid is, best of luck to you. Don't screw up."

"You're fuckin' nuts," the redhead muttered with less vehemence than it occurred to him he ought to have been displaying, chin on the table as he mourned the loss of his last bit of beer.

"Maybe so, but you know I give good advice. Better when I'm sober," the other drawled with a grin.

"I guess I have no chance of convincin' you that you're wrong, do I?"

"_Hell_ no," he slurred.

It was at that moment that their conversation was brought to an abrupt end, because Demyx slumped over onto the bar without further ado, presumably unconscious. Axel groaned - taking home drunken, passed-out friends wasn't high on his priority list any day, and it was much more difficult at the moment because he having more than a little bit of trouble standing.

But, on the bright side, it was quite the prime opportunity to piss Zexion the fuck off, and he spent enough time making those moments himself that he wasn't about to say no to a ready-made one. He was so fucking much _fun_ when he was furious and snarky.

He'd make it a point to keep his hand on his gun, though. Just in case.

XXX

Axel showed up at Roxas's huge fucking mansion the morning afterward with an array of weaponry in a case on his back and a headache strong enough to split nations if applied with enough force.

"You look like shit," the blonde observed tactfully, eyebrows raised, as he opened the side-door where the assassin had been instructed to enter.

The redhead gave a laugh at that, partially at the other's wording and partially because he knew that he really did.

"Very nice, blondie. Glad to know all those fancy-ass schools haven't ruined you for normal conversation yet. Mockery is a topic sadly left off the curriculum at St. James School for Boys, I'd guess," he drawled, headache not impeding his amusement.

"The fuck? You know my school?" the blonde asked disbelievingly, skirting a mop that some servant or other had neglected to put away as he shut the door.

"I know a hell of a lot about you, blondie," he leered, watching Roxas flinch at the creepiness of the statement even if he didn't quite get the lewd intent. He was a properly brought up upper-society boy, after all - though that was something Axel planned to fix quickly enough. "'ts part of the job description, kid."

"What, stalking people? No wonder this job works for you," the blonde shot back, clearly not entirely comfortable with the situation. "In any case, my parents and brother haven't shipped out yet, and they don't know about the whole you-living-here thing - my mother just thinks they're taking a trip to see my cousins, who I've never gotten along with. So can you kind of try to keep it low-key? I mean, I know keeping out of the way's probably difficult for you, but my dad's going to be fucking _pissed_ if he finds you in my bedroom."

Axel chucked a little at that, ignoring the blonde's incredulous and vaguely shocked stare - because with the plans the redhead had for the kid, his father would be more than just _pissed_ if he ever found the two of them together in a bedroom. Mortified would be more like it. It took only a moment for him to decide that mentioning said fact would be tantamount to suicide, so he decided against it, though his grin abated none. Instead, he gave Roxas an amused look and crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one hip.

"What, I get to stay in your bedroom?" he drawled, voice not betraying just how interested he might actually be in such an occurrence. "Aw, how _sweet_ of you. Good to know your sense of self-preservation's alive and kicking," he noted with a quirked eyebrow.

"_No_, asshole," the other hissed back, blue eyes darting from one end of the small storage room to the other nervously, as he watched to make sure nobody was listening in. "All I meant was for you to keep it quiet."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Axel responded dismissively with a wave of his hand, again biting his tongue against th obvious innuendoes. "But since your sense of self-preservation seems to be kinda broken anyway - And, because you want to piss off dear old daddy plus keep me out of the way… I have a plan," he announced, smirking at Roxas's look of confusion. Throwing people off-kilter was several kinds of fun, really; but it was even better when they blushed, all powder-red and trying not to seem as interested as they really were.

"And this would be?" the other asked warily.

"Remember my offer when we met?" He paused. "I wanna take you out to a bar, show you a good time away from the stuck up assholes who like to try and run your life," he said, and meant it, for once.

"What makes you think that I want to be away from the people who try their best to make everything as comfortable for me as possible?" Roxas questioned, words belied by the look of interest that he couldn't quite keep off his face.

"Well, you dress like you make your own clothes, for one, and I'm sure that daddy dearest isn't so fond of the way you throw around 'damn' and 'fuck' more often than other people in your situation would throw around their money. And I'm pretty sure that's the point," he guessed, eyes catching with the other's - and grinned, because in them he saw his victory.

There was a long pause.

"Alright, fine," the other finally agreed. "We'll leave your shit in the safe and then we can go wherever the hell you want," he grumbled as if he didn't actually want to go with the redhead.

Axel laughed then, because it was easy to see that someone else was lying to themselves when you did it almost compulsively yourself.

_Objective one, complete_.

XXX

Demyx woke up the morning after his night out with Axel on his couch, the light streaming through the curtains with altogether too much intensity for the state of his poor head. This surprised him a bit, because last he recalled it had been nighttime, and he had been in a bar on the south side with Axel, both of them having a thoroughly good time.

He groaned a little at the discomfort of waking, and threw an arm over his eyes, noting unhappily the extra discomfort of his extreme nausea.

"I see you're awake," said a voice from the other side of the room, and though the person it belonged to was much too far away for Demyx to be expected to focus on just after waking with the hangover to end worlds, but he assumed that only one person with a voice like that would be in his apartment at - at far too early in the morning.

"Don't remind me, Zexion," he moaned, bringing his knees up closer to his chest because something instinctively told him that he would feel better if he just curled up more.

He was rather pissed off when he found out that his instincts were lying to him.

"You went out drinking last night, then?" Even in this state, Demyx could hear that the tone in his lover's voice was disturbingly icy.

"Yeah?" He paused momentarily. "Are you angry with me? I mean, you weren't here, and I was alone…" he drifted off, shifting his position again in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

"I am not angry," came Zexion's too-cool reply. Of course he wasn't angry - Zexion never got angry. If something upset him, he made the other man pay dearly. "I am merely questioning your judgment as to who you should be out with."

"What, you mean Axel?" This was new - the other man had never openly expressed a desire for Axel and Demyx not to meet, though it was quite clear that he would prefer them to be on opposite sides of the city, if he could manage it. "Oh, stop it. I know you don't like the guy but we've known each other for years. If he was going to kill me he would have done it by now; honestly, he's no more dangerous to me than you are," he said dismissively, doing his very best to sit up to see his lover, ignoring how the room shifted with his movement.

"I highly doubt that," the assassin informed him icily. "Axel feels no obligation based on acquaintanceship or a previous alliances. He is untrustworthy."

"Yeah, I know, but so are you," the other pointed out. "I mean, seriously. I trust you, don't I? You both lie, you both kill people, you both are in a business where you could be asked to turn on someone in half a second."

"…There is a difference," the assassin stated, expression suddenly closed tighter than his fists, and Demyx took a deep breath to clear his mind - this was serious, it seemed, and he couldn't be so cavalier about it.

"I know, I know," the blonde responded tiredly, one white hand coming up to massage his temple. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that… that he cares the same for me that you do. But my point was that, if I went around not trusting the people I knew based on occupation alone, where would you and I be? We'd never have gotten together, and I would be miserable, alone, in that giant house I used to live in, and you never would have learned the meaning of 'fun,'" he said with a smile.

"Axel and I are not the same, Demyx," he said, voice serious thought it had lost some of its steely edge. "Axel has killed a friend -"

"Don't tell me, Zexion - I don't want to know about who he killed," Demyx interrupted. "I knew what he did for a living when I became friends with him, and I judge him to be a decent person despite all of that. Please trust me, and trust my judgment," he implored, voice quiet.

There was a long silence as the other side of the room came slowly into focus, and suddenly the blonde could see his lover's face, tired and worn like he'd only rarely seen it.

"Alright," the assassin muttered in resigned agreement. "I'll trust your judgment. But that still doesn't make me trust him. I hope that you'll be careful around him, though."

There was a pause, and Demyx stood as best as he could, walking over to his lover's side.

"Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me," said quietly, face lighting up with a quiet happiness.

"I do," the other responded, "and that's the only reason I'm agreeing." Only moments afterwards, he leaned forward and captured his lover's lips in his own, hands fisting in the back of the other's shirt, holding on like he never wanted to let go.

And to Demyx, the fact that he didn't want to was worth every second of frustration.

XXX

Sora didn't verbally challenge his father's request - order, more like - that his son clear out of the house with the rest of the family, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. He sat with his legs crossed on his large plush bed, drumming absently on the quilt as he mused - the idea of leaving his brother here to face his fate alone didn't quite appeal to him. To be completely honest, the idea sickened him in an almost physical way - and he was more or less disgusted with his father for accepting it, in any case.

"Well, the question looks like it's going to be just how I can escape without them noticing," he muttered to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, only halfway resigned to the fact that it would never, ever lay flat. "But when and how?"

His thoughts were interrupted by a low conversation from the hallway, involving - he guessed - at least one person he didn't know.

It occurred to him that the unknown person was probably that redhead; the one who'd be living with Roxas for the next - well, he didn't want to think about how long it might be. He wasn't as uncomfortable with this, he realized, as perhaps he should have been - because, no matter what the man did for a living or what sorts of horrors he'd committed in the past, he had still proved himself to be a decent enough person to help them. To Sora, this proof of his inherent decency was worth more than any of that. He was more than willing to let the man try to turn over a new leaf, if he wanted to.

He jumped up and ran to the door quietly, hoping to catch the two of them before they were too far away, to that he might have a chance to thank the other man.

As he threw open the door, he found the two of them having what looked like some kind of argument, though Axel looked altogether too happy for it to be entirely serious. Upon hearing the creak of the door - someone should get that oiled, really - Roxas looked up in the middle of a furious gesture, mouth still open, and turned silent awkwardly. He probably wasn't really keen on his little brother hearing what he'd been saying.

"Hey, Roxas!" he said to break the silence, pretending he hadn't heard a word. "And, um, your name was…" he asked sheepishly, embarrassed that he couldn't even remember if the other man had introduced himself or not yet.

"Axel," he responded with that same easy grin, though Sora could feel an undercurrent of danger in that expression. "Don't forget it, either."

"Um, yeah, sorry about that!" he said, apologizing just in case. "Anyway, I just heard you guys go by, so I thought I'd pop out to meet you properly, Axel," he said, extending a hand, and waiting longer than he probably should have for the other man to take it and shake. From the expression on his face, hand-shaking was probably not a greeting he was used to.

"I wanted, also, to say thank you," Sora continued before the other man could get a word in. "For doing this for us. I just, yeah. I'm glad that you told us in time to get out. And, take care of my brother, will you please? It… I'm not really happy with leaving him here by himself, but at least we have that, right?" he said, not wanting to let Roxas know about his plans to escape his parents and come back.

"Yeah, well," the redhead smirked, "He's gonna have better protection than you do. So you'd better get the fuck out of here before tonight, because I have a feeling that the first one's gonna be here by this evening. He'd better find you gone," he said casually, quite effectively keeping the hard glint in his eyes out of his voice.

"I understand," the brunette responded with more enthusiasm than he actually felt. "A coach is coming in an hour to take us away. In any case, I'm going to go finish getting everything packed, so I'll see you later!" Sora said, shifting his weight to his left foot as he brought up his other hand in a quick wave before turning away to walk back to his room.

As soon as the door shut, he heard a muffled voice say, "Fuck, your brother really _does_ look like you," in a manner that might have been joking and might not have been - but there was something in the man's tone that made him blush, though he didn't know why.

_Must be going crazy, _he told himself, nodding in affirmation. Yeah. That was it. Definitely crazy.

XXX

"Cloud, jeez, calm down some - he's not going to bite," Zack muttered to the other so that their conversation was just out of Sephiroth's earshot, slapping his friend on the back casually and giving his goofy grin. "Seriously, take a deep breath." He could understand why his friend was so on edge, though, even if he didn't have to like it.

"I am calm," Cloud said, trying to convince himself as much as the other man, because the tension in his friend's neck definitely told him otherwise.

"You're not, either. You haven't said three words all day, like a scared bird or something," the captain continued, falling into line by the blonde, about twenty feet behind the General - who was at least pretending not to listen.

"…And I'm normally so talkative."

"Well, you usually get all prickly and adorable when I harass you, and you've just been turning red," he noted with amusement. He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck where it itched from a loose seam in the uniform. "God, you guys need to learn how to be normal human beings, do you know that? You and Seph both. The army bled all the fun out of you, or something."

"Or maybe you just have so much fun that normal people look deficient," the blonde mumbled. "The army didn't seem to have any effect on you."

" 'Course not," he snorted. "Even the US army doesn't have enough tightasses to slow me down any! I mean, it doesn't _get_ anymore tight-assed than Sephiroth, and I've almost got him trained!"

"I heard that," came the General's voice from in front of them, and he could see Cloud's neck tense again, eyes fixed straight ahead with a forced steadiness. A step backwards, dammit.

"Only 'cause I wanted you to, Seph!" he shouted up to where the general stood, not entirely truthfully. But this was an opportunity, maybe, to get the two dumbasses talking to each other, finally. Though he knew Cloud too well to call his interest in the General an infatuation, he hoped that at least some of the shine would come off the sword with repeated contact, so that if nothing ever did happen, at least he'd be able to get together with someone _else_.

"I'm sure," came the General's response as he stopped and turned towards them, emerald stare doing quite an excellent job of hiding the amusement that Zack was _positive_ was there, somewhere_. "_You know I could have you court martialed for that," he informed the other without so much as a drop of humor in his silk-steel voice.

"Yeah, I know, I know - you could have my ass busted down ranks 'till I'm nothing but cannon-fodder," he agreed without a hint of worry. Of course Sephiroth was an asshole, but he was reasonably certain that after a good year of constant harassment, the man could stand him. "But you won't."

"I wouldn't test him," muttered the blonde beside him. "I'd value my rank more if I were you."

"Oh come on, Spike, where's your sense of adventure?" he chucked as they both walked up to where Sephiroth stood. The General had the long-suffering look on which Zack had become so used to.

"Reserving itself for more intelligent forms of entertainment, I might imagine," the taller man noted, hand as always on the hilt of his sword. "Baiting your superior officer is hardly a sign of a great intellect."

Zack snorted and crossed his arms.

"Don't be an idiot, I'm not baiting my superior officer. I'm baiting Sephiroth, there's a huge difference," he informed the other two with mock offense. "One implies I'd be doing it no matter who you were. And that is quite patently untrue. Isn't it, Spike?" he asked, grinning, bringing one hand up to ruffle said officer's hair. "Spike" didn't respond, instead spending the energy glowering at his friend.

"Be glad you're so tall, Seph, or I'd be ruffling your hair too," Zack said with his grin only growing at Cloud's look of utter mortification.

The General didn't dignify that with a response, instead turning to continue walking, leaving the two captains by themselves.

"You know," Cloud began with something between astonishment and horror, "I'm fairly sure he's disemboweled men for less than you just did."

"Yeah, well," he laughed, "The fact that I'm still alive means that there's hope for him yet."

He could wait, after all, if it was going to be that much fun.

XXX

XXX

Hi guys! Thanks for reading again 3 All my love to you. Seriously. You make my life.

And I know there's not much AkuRoku yet, please be patient?

Some notes on the story itself, for those of you that know FF7:

I know Cloud's characterization may seem strange to you, but I'm trying to write him halfway in between the shy, star-struck cadet and the jaded, world-weary but capable version we see in Advent Children. This is because he's lost Aerith but not Zack, and hasn't gone through the betrayal that also helped to define him. So, if he seems a little bit strange to you, that's why.

Thanks for putting up with me this far, guys.

Drop a line if you liked!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The jarring - though quiet - sound of breaking glass woke Zexion not so long after receiving his latest assignment, and he was up in a half an instant, every sense completely aware, thrumming with anticipation and the spiking feeling of adrenaline in his gut. He did a quick sweep of the room - whatever it was, thank god, it wasn't here - eyes darting across the windows and then over the shape of his lover's body under their rust-colored covers. Demyx was still - miraculously - asleep, snuggling into the indentation on the bed that Zexion had occupied only moments before, and so the assassin was as quiet as possible as he took a step forward and drew his revolver from its holster, hands shaking from the force of his heartbeat.

It was moments like these when he thought that it wasn't worth it, having a lover - wasn't worth the terror, wasn't worth those moments of shallow panting when he didn't know if the blonde would live long enough to kiss him good morning. After only an instant, he pushed that thought away, willing his face to regain its steeliness and his heart its calm - this was not the first time they had been threatened, nor the first time that it had happened in their home.

He took several silent steps forward, bare feet padding along their rug easily as he passed the bookshelf and carefully drew a knife from between two of the larger tomes, though he never let go of the firearm in his right hand. A glance into the carpeted hallway revealed nothing. Everything was in its place - excepting that the curtains, he noticed as he glanced to the right into his sitting room. An unseen draft blew them gently, almost imperceptibly - and near them could be seen the hazily defined outline of an early morning shadow. A person's shadow.

Not five seconds later, their floor was adorned by the corpse of a dead man, sprawled grotesquely across the vine pattern on their carpet with a knife protruding from his throat. He had no kind of identification - of course he didn't, the man was a professional who just happened to make the mistake of breaking a window - and nothing in his pockets, save for change of every denomination and some twine with bloodstains on it.

Zexion highly suspected that the bloodstains were not from the man's death, and that it would have smelled like decay if he had cared to test it - but then, everything smelled like blood just then, and his chief priority was to remove the corpse before Demyx saw it. His next would be to get his lover the hell out of this place, and take up the job that - apparently - he had been neglecting for too long.

This was just a reminder that just because he had decided to spend a few days on other things, forgetting the rogue, didn't mean that the rogue had forgotten about him.

If left alive, it would only be so long until the man or his associates came after them again - and then they'd come again, and again, until he broke under the force of their repeated assault. Fortitude was not his chief advantage, and secrecy wasn't his lover's - so, the only option was to kill that man, before he found them again.

His internal monologue was broken unceremoniously just as he managed to lift the killer's - admittedly massive - torso, enough to get it out the door, because his groggily adorable lover appeared at the door in a state of lethargic confusion.

"Zexy," he asked, rubbing one eye with his left palm, "Why is there a dead man in our living room?" The other eye opened, and he gave his lover a critical look. There was a long silence as Zexion tried to work out an answer, but before he could open his mouth Demyx posed another, far more important question.

"…Why are you naked?" he continued, eyebrow slowly reaching impossible heights as he began to grin.

_Shit._

"…There are certain details that one tends to forget about when one's life is in immediate danger," he defended himself, pretending that he hadn't flushed at all.

"Uh-huh," Demyx agreed patronizingly, crossing his arms and shifting his weight with that knowing, happy look that Zexion had seen so many times before - but this time, painted in the early morning sunshine and framed by the mahogany doorway with traces of sleep still on his eyes, he was so beautiful that it was suddenly perfectly, crystal clear why everything was worth it. Why every moment of terror and bated breath was alright, because he could wake up to _that_ in the morning.

But the moment of clarity was darkened by a smudge, as on a dirty window, putting a layer of detachment between himself and his bliss. Because he knew, with more surety than he thought he had possessed, what he had to do.

XXX

The crowd of people that swept by them in a current of harried tenseness was full, Axel was sure, with characters of a less-than-savory nature. And by that he meant that they probably wouldn't hesitate to kill him, or his young charge, if given half an excuse.

But since none of them were really out that night to see either of them dead, he figured that they were safe unless they got really, really drunk. It helped that Roxas probably had stayed behind the scenery of their soaring mansion during the drama that was his family's public life. No-one, at least, seemed to recognize his face - and since he didn't dress or act like the rich boy that he was, there was nothing, for now, to give away that he was going out for a drink with a kid who had a target painted on his life.

As they approached the Seventh Heaven, Axel was suddenly very glad that he had picked one of the higher-end bars that he knew of, because Roxas looked uncomfortable even among this many factory workers and street thieves. He didn't look out of place on the vibrant streets so much as he looked unsure of himself, which the redhead was quite happy to think he had a lot of time to work on.

"So, what d'you think?" he drawled, slinging an arm around the younger's shoulder's casually, and giving a sidelong glance to a man in a careworn black suit who passed them by, ignoring them. "I know, this isn' exactly your normal kinda place, but I think you'll like it."

"Will I really," the blonde muttered, clearly trying to look like he was second-guessing his decision to come along - but his true feelings on the situation were made obvious by how his down-turned eyes darted brightly from one new thing to the next above his perpetual scowl.

"'Course you will," Axel responded, grin wide as he fairly dragged Roxas forwards, towards the wooden door that was marked with the evidence of at least a few bar-fights. The brightly painted sign above the door read "Seventh Heaven" despite the fact that the paint was peeling. Tifa must not have had time to have it done recently - that probably meant that business was good, and he was a little bit glad despite himself. She was just an acquaintance, it was true, and he had never actually given her his real name - but he had a residual interest and amusement in the spitfire barmaid, and had ever since he watched her break a man's hand for putting it where it shouldn't have been.

"This is Tifa's place," he continued casually, "and if there's one thing that woman knows how to do it's make a mean drink."

He'd always figured that if he'd had the inclination to go for a long-term relationship, or for someone halfway respectable - not that a woman running her own business was very accepted, itself - he'd go for someone like her. Of course, he'd subsequently been proven quite wrong. He was more than just ok with that.

"What, you mean a woman runs this bar?" the blonde asked, a bit wide-eyed at that - he'd probably never seen a woman do anything but smile maternally and give men lip-service, and only in the completely respectable way.

Axel couldn't help but chuckle as the thought of Roxas meeting Larxene popped into existence completely against his will.

"Kid, you have a lot to learn," he intoned with an obvious edge of amusement as they took their first steps into the Seventh Heaven. The regular customers - that was a polite way of saying the alcoholics - were already in place in the back, despite the fact that it was barely into the evening, though the rest of the place was desolate in the way of marketplaces after the shopkeepers had packed up for the evening. There wasn't much noise except for the crackling hum of a radio from the back corner, though Axel knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.

"This is it?" Roxas asked, evidently unimpressed by the scenery. He sat down at one of the worn wooden tables near the entrance, and Axel followed his lead without comment - after all, having a quick escape nearby was useful, and fairly well necessary considering their circumstances. Just because the blonde had apparently forgotten about the danger didn't mean that it wasn't there.

"Hey," the redhead responded with a smirk, "This place'll look great t' you once you've had a couple mugs of beer, kiddo."

"…I hope I'm not _that_ affected," he informed the other with an affectation of derision that didn't really suit him at all.

Axel chuckled at that, sliding into his seat with a boneless sort of grace that always threw people off-guard around him - it was one of his chief advantages. People never took him seriously until he _got_ serious, and by then it was too late.

"Trust me, you will be." Nobody left Tifa's place sober, especially not when they were with him. That would be a crime not worth thinking about.

XXX

The scenery outside the window of the automobile was considerably less pretty than it ought to have been, Sora reflected as he watched trees and rocks jerk up and down behind the smudged glass. This, of course, might have been because he was scowling fit, if not to kill, at least to give someone a mild case of indigestion. His parents, dressed in a very suitable black, rode silently beside him, evidently paying no attention to his surliness in favor of focusing on their own troubles.

Although he was slightly guilty for being so disagreeable so soon after his mother's cure, he couldn't let them just leave his brother to - well, to whatever it was that was going to happen.

"Excuse me, sirs n' missus," ventured their driver blithely from the front seat, apparently unaware of the tension in the back seat, "But if I may, I'd like to stop for fuel. And a meal for the young sir, too," he suggested with a wink in Sora's direction that the brunette couldn't help but meet with a small smile.

During that moment of eye contact, there was a sudden click in his mind - the beginning of an idea. Knowing the nature of ideas, he didn't think about it too much for a bit, as his father rumbled out some sort of agreement and his mother began to converse with the driver. Their vehicle slowed down within minutes at a dusty car stop by the side of their road, and the idea solidified in a half an instant - while his parents were inside buying food for the trip, he would speak to the driver - give him a message - and then, head back down the road the way they had come.

He smiled a little bit at that, even though he could feel the fright begin to well up in his throat, because he never would have been able to live with himself it he'd left his brother to his fate.

XXX

The bar had filled up quite nicely as the evening went on, especially considering that it was a Tuesday and the day had nothing else special going for it. Of course, that meant that there were more people around to witness Roxas's blissful inebriation.

"Roxas, babe," Axel drawled as he pulled the blonde back down into his chair, "That's not a prostitute, and even if it was, I don't think you'd enjoy the fuck much in this state," he informed the other as he sprawled in his chair, muscles apparently nonfunctional due to the level of alcohol in them. He was honestly glad this time that he'd kept out of the booze, because watching Roxas flirt with every warm body in the area was really fucking hilarious.

"I didn' think she was," he slurred defensively, eyes shifting in what Axel knew to be a complete and blatant lie.

"Of course you didn't," Axel responded, patting the blonde's hand patronizingly. "I'm sure you also realized that the person you were hitting on was actually a man." Not, of course, that Reno had complained about being hit on - he was about ready to fuck the blonde right then and there. Before things could go too far, Axel snatched the defenseless Roxas away from the Turk's wandering hands. It was only that and one disapproving stare from Rude that kept Roxas's fragile virginity intact.

"…What? A… But wait." He paused, brow wrinkling in adorable confusion. "But her - his… He was hitting on me too," he stated blankly, alcohol standing in between him and realization.

"Yep," Axel responded with a half-grin and a raised eyebrow. "That happens sometimes. Guys can hit on other guys."

"…What, really?" the blonde asked with a look of shocked innocence that made Axel choke on his drink, spluttering a little as he tried to catch his breath. He was quite the find, really - he managed to fall for the most clueless kid this side of Brooklyn, with the exception of Roxas's enthusiastic younger brother.

_Boy, I sure do know how to pick them_, he thought to himself with a self-deprecating amusement. The interesting thing was that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't find any remorse.

XXX

"If you can give us information on the person who killed our researcher, ShinRa can make it worth your while," Cloud began with an attempt at diplomacy, looking small and uncomfortable as he stood between Sephiroth and the deceivingly feminine leader of the assassin's syndicate. But then, Zack thought with a fatalistic half-amusement, just about anybody would be a little bit out of their league as the two behemoths - mental and physical - faced off coldly from opposite sides of the room.

Sephiroth leaned tensely against the back wall, muscle tension overlaid by a pretense of a casual demeanor, but his emerald-shard eyes were locked directly on Marluxia's. Zack kind of felt sorry for Cloud then, because Marluxia was barely even listening to him in favor of returning Sephiroth's cutting stare.

Clearly the two men weren't getting along. Apparently the "play nice" lessons with Sephiroth weren't having their desired effects.

"I have no information on a hit performed against your corporation in the recent past." He paused, stare turning frostily to Cloud, who met it admirably. "And even if I did, I would not give out that information."

"So basically that means you're lying," Zack muttered, halfway to himself - a guard gave him a dirty look from behind his employer that he ignored expertly, crossing his arms.

"You may think what you wish," Marluxia responded. "It's not important."

"We are willing to negotiate for that information," Cloud continued, falling into the quiet but fiercely intense demeanor that would make him such a good captain someday. Something changed in that moment, because suddenly everyone in the room was looking at him instead of elsewhere. "But if you will not cooperate, I'm going to have to take extreme measures."

"…Are you threatening me?" the assassin asked then, slowly, and everyone in the room tensed, hands trembling with energy barely inches away from their weapons.

"No," the captain continued, tension flowing away to leave just confidence behind, of the kind that couldn't possibly be mistaken for arrogance. "But I am informing you that there will be consequences if you refuse." He didn't raise his voice at all, but there was a cord of complete certainty underneath that made his meaning absolutely clear despite his calm.

"I understand, but I unfortunately have no information to give you. ShinRa and the Organization have always had good relations, but if this event earns your enmity, then so be it," Marluxia intoned with a heavy air of finality that was almost threatening, but not quite.

"Then we're finished here," Cloud murmured, giving a nod to Zack as he turned away from the assassin, then the same to the General, who - miraculously - actually nodded back, emerald-shard eyes locked on the side of the other man's face. The blonde didn't seem to notice as they left, of course, but Sephiroth's intense gaze never moved from him, interest finally flickering in the liquid depths.

Zack couldn't help but do a little bit of silent celebration, because there weren't many people in the world who earned Sephiroth's notice - and though Cloud appeared oblivious to it as they strode purposefully down the hallway, he had apparently been awarded a place in that group.

Congratulations were in order - but before he could step forward to give Spike a slap on the back or say something about how fucking awesome the kid had been, he realized that Sephiroth had beaten him to it.

"You did well," he rumbled, voice smooth as water as Cloud turned, and they locked eyes for possibly the first time, because for once, the blonde didn't glance away. They stood for a moment like that, and Zack marveled that his younger friend seemed almost like a different person then, cool and confident even under The General's hard stare.

"Thank you, sir," he said, and with that turned to face ahead. For the first time really acknowledging each other, Zack thought, it was pretty fair. There might be hope for those crazy bastards yet.

XXX

His house seemed empty as Sora walked in the door, breathing heavily from the jog and not realizing just how lucky he had been - nobody had mugged him or said even so much as a word to him, despite the fact that he was wearing clothes of a quality make and some expense. The servants had all been cleared out - presumably so that they wouldn't get in the way of whatever was going to happen - and so the sound of his footsteps echoed emptily through the abandoned home.

After all of his thinking about what could befall his younger brother, he wasn't exactly comforted by the eerie silence.

He had only just began silently walking towards the staircase which would lead him up to his room, when the quiet was broken by a sharp bark of distant laughter from somewhere in the back of the massive building, followed quickly by another, in a different voice.

"Roxas?" he called out tentatively, hoping that it was his brother there and not someone less friendly. Of course, the possibility of imminent danger didn't occur to him as a reason not to inform the world of his location.

The mutters and laughter that followed that didn't seem to be in response to his query, so he started into a light trot in the direction of the noise. It wasn't long before he recognized where the sounds were coming from - the servants' kitchen was in that direction, and he could see forms of shadow in the light from the crack in the door. From that distance, he could - thankfully - recognize his older brother's voice, and he let out a breath he hadn't even known that he'd been holding.

But the sight that greeted him was hardly what he expected - Roxas was leaning limply on the redheaded assassin from earlier, a grin on his face that couldn't possibly have been his brother's. The blonde just didn't smile like that, completely unreserved. It just didn't happen.

"…Roxas?" He paused for a minute, staring, and said brother gave him a startled look that morphed very quickly into a look of embarrassment. If Sora hadn't known better, he would have said that his brother almost looked… drunk.

"Sora? What, I mean, you started… You left with mom and dad," he stated, not comprehending - his blue eyes were as blank as any of the alcoholics who they'd occasionally see on the streets.

"Hey there," Axel said cheerily, too busy beginning to nuzzle Roxas's neck to really see their visitor, or recognize who it was. The blonde didn't really seem to mind, however, but simply stared at him instead, blue eyes framed startlingly by the lashes that had always been a shade too dark to seem strictly natural.

"I did leave with mom and dad," he began, pretending that the tip of Axel's nose was not sliding up his brother's neck in a way that could only be described as seductive. "But," he continued, "I came back as soon as I could. I'm not leaving you here alone." He grinned then, though it might have lacked some of his normal vivacity, due partially to fright and partially to a large portion of his brain being devoted to trying to figure out just what on earth was going on. "What kind of a brother would I be if I did?"

Those words seemed to shake Axel jarringly out of his trance, and his head shot up to stare at the newcomer to their kitchen scene.

"You," he said, eyes wide like he wasn't sure whether he was more shocked or angry. "I told you to get the fuck out of here." Sora, even with his limited experience, could practically see the alcohol swimming behind those jade eyes, and that made him more than a bit uncomfortable.

"I won't leave my brother behind to face all of this alone," he repeated defensively, more out of surprise than because he really felt he had to justify himself.

"You're gonna get him in so much more shit for being here," he responded, finally letting go of Roxas to stand up at his full height - which was admittedly impressive, especially with the addition of his spiked mass of carmine hair, which was nothing to laugh at either.

Sora flinched a little at that - the last thing he'd ever wanted to do was to put Roxas in more danger, but… he couldn't in good conscience just save himself and leave his brother to whatever fate was waiting for him. He wouldn't just leave. It would stay with him for the rest of his life if he did, and something happened. He wasn't going to let _anything _happen to his brother. Roxas had protected him so many times before - now it was his turn. Anything at all that he could do.

It was Roxas who broke the long quiet this time.

"Sora, I wanted you to go," he managed to get out, still apparently trying to make everything line up in a way that made sense.

"I know. I'll talk to you in the morning, when you're… feeling better," Sora responded, shooting Axel a dirty look as a reward for his brother's apparent inebriation, to which the assassin was predictably impervious. He looked like he was sitting on a million impulses to move, but every repressed instinct came through in his eyes, clear as a gunshot.

"Ok," Roxas said slowly, likely unsure as to what he had just agreed to. "Just… Don't get yourself hurt, ok?" he continued with a surprising amount of clarity, eyes locked directly on Sora's. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Axel seemed to relax at that, giving a sigh and shooting a quick, flickering look over to the blonde - it was almost as if… _No, of course not_, Sora reprimanded himself as the look quickly disappeared, replaced by an expression of amused resignation that left no traces of the earlier, indescribable one. He probably imagined it, after all.

"Alright, alright," the redhead muttered, making some kind of a gesture with his hand that apparently indicated acquiescence. "He stays. But you," he continued with an inclination of his head towards Roxas, "are gonna get some sleep now." A pause. "We'll talk about this later."

He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

XXX

After the attack that morning, Zexion wasted no time in beginning to plan his attack. Sitting down at the small table in their kitchen and looking over the painstakingly handwritten case details - dates, names, methods, everything - he began to formulate a seedling of an idea, careful and meticulous as anything he'd ever done, because it was even more important. Though simple on the surface, each plan had alternatives for every section, layered upon each other and constructed in such a fashion that they were - he hoped - failsafe.

The first step would be crucial, though it was easy enough to see - kill the youngest child, to incite the family and begin the retaliation. But, if the fire would hire a killer to exact revenge upon the man who attempted to poison his wife, then he would surely hire someone to kill the man who murdered his son - especially now, when he had nothing left to lose by doing so. Chances were that the rogue was the only one lacking enough sanity to place himself against the whole Organization's strength, and so the one move would both teach the world to fear their power, and flush out the rogue who thought he could defy it.

The other assassins, then, would guard the boy's killer - and when the rogue came to dispense vengeance, they would be watching, and waiting for the moment when they could strike. And when they did, when the Organization unleashed its fury upon a man, then he _would _fall.

He would fall, and Zexion's blade would taste his blood. And then, maybe - maybe everything would be alright again. Maybe they would be safe. Or maybe… Maybe that was too much to hope for.

XXX

The chief difficulty, Axel mused as he sat in the corner of Roxas's room, back to the wall and happily enshrouded by shadows, was that now, there were fucking _two_ of them. Just having one kid who didn't know his way around the business end of a knife was trouble enough, having another - and the second even more innocent than Roxas - made life so fucking much more difficult. Not only was the kid an idiot for putting his ass in danger, but he put his brother's ass in even more danger out of a misguided sense of morality.

The two brothers were restlessly asleep in the same bed not five feet from the lanky redhead's watchful gaze, arms entwined in a way that was more a product of accident than design, as they sprawled out together underneath the thick, quilted bedspread. Axel wouldn't allow them to sleep in separate rooms - that was an invitation to disaster, and catastrophes weren't nearly as much fun when you were on the receiving end.

This extra burden was frustrating precisely because the assassin's success, frankly, depended on the nature and quality of his information - which he was fairly damn well unable to get with not just one, but two kids whose lives were directly depending on him. He'd never had anybody really depend on him in his whole goddamn life, and he wasn't sure that he liked it much. Now, sitting in the dark and waiting for something - anything - to happen, he was a little bit tempted to tell them to go fuck themselves.

But then Roxas would say something else, something that showed off that firebrand of a passion that so attracted Axel to the kid, or laugh in that totally shocked and adorable way, and Axel would remember why their asses were all on the shooting range.

After all, chaos didn't always necessarily land on the side of evil. He could help people, too, when the mood struck. So, it was for completely altruistic reasons that he wanted Sora the fuck out of there.

It wasn't at all because the little brunette's current presence in Roxas's bed made it really difficult for Axel to get in there, in ways that would be much more fun. The thought never even crossed his mind.

All thoughts of the blonde's younger brother pushed to the side, it occurred to Axel that he still had one reliable, connected source of information on the Organization. The trick would be to get the information about the Organization's doings out of Demyx without the smaller realizing what had actually been occurring. But then, deception was what he _did_ - manipulation his ace - and convincing Demyx, who was never quite on top of things, not to think too hard about what he was saying; that, would be a breeze.

The only issue, then, was the brother. The only obstacle to his complete success was one sixteen year old boy.

That fact was as frustrating as it was unlikely, and he reflected with something halfway between resignation and flat-out annoyance, that he might just have to call in some favors on this one.

_Only_ when things were otherwise unsolvable, however. His pride wouldn't allow it otherwise.

XXX

Hours later, the sudden, clanging ring of a telephone broke Axel's silent reverie, waking Roxas only enough that he threw out an arm to where the noise was coming from and picked up the ivory handle. He threw it to his face groggily, putting the other up to rub his face in what was probably supposed to be an invigorating sort of motion.

"Hello?" he ground out, face screwed up with what was probably the pain of a first hangover. "Roxas here." There was a pause. "Oh. Uh, yeah." He rolled over onto his back, eyes still scrunched up like he didn't want to believe it was really day time. He threw an arm over his eyes petulantly, then shoved the receiver at his brother's ear, though he didn't seem to be quite awake. The cord protested at the strain, but no-one paid any attention.

"Dad wants to talk to you," the blonde said, disgruntled, to which Sora responded with a little noise that probably didn't mean anything at all.

Ah. So that was it - dearest daddy was calling up to give his youngest son a piece of his mind. With any luck, this would convince the kid to get the fuck out of there and back underneath momma's wing.

"But what?" were the first words out of the brunette's mouth, and he didn't really open his eyes until a very loud, startling noise that was probably shouting came out of the earpiece - he was awake pretty quickly after that. "I…" More shouting - it was loud enough that Axel could almost even understand it this time. "Yeah. Yeah - I know. Sorry. I will." There was a long silence as Sora listened to whatever was being said, broken only by Roxas's groaning as he rubbed a hand through his hair, as if it wasn't mussed enough to begin with.

"Uh… Axel," the brunette finally said, turning over in his plush sheets that probably cost more than Axel's entire wardrobe, "Dad wants to talk to you."

Fucking fantastic. He got to be chewed out because their rebellious little kid decided to fuck the rules and grow some balls. Well, he wasn't about to fucking stand for that. He didn't have to cover the family's ass, after all, and the minute they got on his bad side they were going to get their asses nailed to the fucking wall.

He stood up and took a step forward, stretching just enough so that he could get the phone to his ear.

"What d'you want?" he drawled with annoyance, watching Roxas try to get deeper in the covers in an attempt to pretend that the morning hadn't happened.

The voice from the other line was surprisingly calm for someone whose son had just run back towards what he was almost certain would be horrible injury, if not death.

"You will keep watch on both my sons," he began from the other end of the line, as if he had some kind of authority.

"Listen, I ain't taking orders from -" Axel growled, because he was doing this out of his own sense of fucking charity, not because this guy was paying him. Whatever happened to Sora wasn't his concern, as long as Roxas didn't have to see it.

"No, let me finish," the father interrupted coolly. "You are keeping watch of both of my sons, but I hardly expect you to do it alone. I have managed to find you assistance. ShinRa is indebted to me, for reasons that I'd prefer not to go into, and they agreed to send some of their private army to help you," he said, voice cracking, probably more out of stress than fear.

Axel's first thought was something along the lines of _How in _hell _did they get ShinRa of all the fuckin' corporations in the world to lend out some of its private army?!_ The second thought went something like _Holy fucking hell, I just hit the motherload_. Because whatever else could be said about the bastards, they were _good_ at what they did. Suddenly their prospects were looking up immensely.

"Thanks. They'd better fucking be here soon," he said, without a hint of his previously expressed gratitude. He handed the phone over to Roxas, who slammed it back down on the stand unhappily.

"So what'd he want?" he groaned, trying to sit up and thinking better of it. He watched out of one blue eye, not quite paying attention to anything but the assassin, a situation which the redhead was perfectly alright with.

"He's got me some fucking assistance," Axel responded with a sharp grin, hovering with a barely repressed energy by their bed. "They should be here any minute now."

"Oh," Roxas grunted in response, evidently not quite understanding the implications of that statement. Didn't matter if he understood or not though, because that might very well save all of their lives.

"You kids get up and out of bed," he instructed when he realized that neither was moving, jerking the blanket off them roughly and not caring much. "I'm not leaving you alone for long enough to do so much as jack off until I know I'm not going to find your insides splayed out over the floor, 'cause they're a bitch to clean up. Got it?" Though both were fully clothed, the brothers curled up into themselves with the cruel removal of their warmth, both moaning rather pathetically. Axel snorted in derision - they were both such rich kids - before taking the initiative and shoving Sora off the bed roughly.

"Get up before I have to kick your ass," he drawled languidly, tapping the boy's back with his booted foot.

"Alright, alright, I'm up," and "Axel, don't be an asshole," came out of the two kids' mouths at roughly the same time, and Axel grinned at that. Roxas's life was in imminent danger and he was currently suffering from what had to be a bitch of a hangover, and yet he still had the guts to threaten one of the most notorious assassins in the city, or even the fucking country.

"You didn't tell me that it would hurt this fucking bad," the blonde grumbled as he sat up and pulled his legs over the side of the bed for the first time.

"Yeah, well, you didn't ask," he said with a satisfied smirk as the two headed grudgingly out the door. He was happy to see their giant entryway quite empty as the kids shuffled out of the hallway and onto the staircase that led down towards the front door. At least none of the butlers were idiotic enough to stick around.

A sharp rap on the door let Axel know that the kids' father had called just at the right time - apparently the assistance had already arrived. He was down the stairs almost before he knew it himself, and with a quick glance outside to ensure both that the visitors were from ShinRa - the uniforms seemed to indicate that they were - and that they hadn't brought one of their gaudily ornamented automobiles to sit in the drive.

As soon as he opened the door, all conscious thought stopped while his mind scrambled frantically to right the ordered planes of his world, to fit what he was seeing into his meticulous plan. After about thirty seconds, he realized that it was probably futile, because standing behind the doorframe, looking just as shocked and put-out as the redhead in front of him, was one Cloud Strife. He barely took a moment to register the gorgeous, silver-haired behemoth of a man behind his - not friend, acquaintance - before his eyes flickered back to the blonde's shocked face.

"…Huh," Axel said, not quite able to formulate anything more complicated with all of his higher mental functions occupied. "Cloud."

Suddenly, then, as he said that word, it clicked - he understood, and everything came floating down into place like it was meant to be. He knew how this would work, how he could use this to his best advantage, and the knowledge gave an edge to his grin that he knew was frightening, even for him.

It was a good fucking thing he didn't give a damn about personal relationships, because now, maybe, he could win.

XXX

XXX

Drop a line if you liked? I love to hear from you. _Love it._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven.**

_His breath was coming in terrified pants, legs shaking too much to run - it had been too long, too much energy, and still Cloud couldn't _find_ her, she was _gone_ and he knew, knew in the poisonous clenching of his stomach and the way his heart was racing that something had happened, that maybe - maybe not; but even as he said that he knew he was lying to himself - she was _dead_ and it was his fault. His fault for letting her leave, for not keeping his eye on her every moment of every day, and _fuck_ if he knew what he would do with himself if she was gone._

_It had been two days - two days with no sign of Aerith, not a footfall nor a smile, and that voice in his head _knew_, knew that she was _dead_ and that she had died badly, that it was his fault for letting her go. She had been _with_ him not so very long ago, smiling softly, with that look of gentleness that she'd turn on every needy soul - he'd loved that look, so much; and it hurt to think about it, now, because the image was overlaid with one of blood staining those perfect lips a venomous carmine._

_He broke into a tired run again, though he was limping more than anything - even his soldier's stamina couldn't keep up against the relentless cold of the Chicago winter and the pitiless agony of each moment - hoping that he could find her, and that against everything he knew to be true, she'd be alright._

_As he ran, limped, trudged through the slush on the streets - the buildings blurred by his lack of focus, his lack of ability to concentrate on anything but where in hell Aerith was - he began to feel it, began to _smell_ it. He knew the smell, knew it intimately - because once a person tastes death there is no return to how things once were. No return to innocence._

_He found her body then, in the nearly-frozen drainage ditch between two houses, blood encrusting her frothy white dress with the finality of death entrenched. One beautiful arm lay frozen in the water, leading up to a delicate neck, and then to her lips as they lay parted, frosted in pink by the evening's snowfall as it coated the dried scarlet that had been her life. But it was her eyes that drew his notice - they lay wide open in the unseeing gaze of the defeated, frozen in place by the wind; crystals of ice trailed from the corners as if, perhaps, she had cried as death had come upon her._

Cried for what_, he wondered distantly, detached._

_Frozen there, perfectly still, Cloud could not do the same. He didn't cry a tear for her death. He stood, instead, as an icy numbness that had nothing to do with the wind crept up his arms, his body, until it reached his throat - and his tears stuck there, face frozen into that moment of denial, of disbelief, which he had worn in that instant before he understood._

_After a moment, he took a few steps forward, snow crunching underfoot, picked her up - slowly, gently - and began to take her home._

**XXX**

The two men stood silently, staring at each other for long enough for the quiet to become awkward, especially with the addition of Axel's razor-thin smirk to the equation. The distance between them, the difference between them, was enough that they almost seemed like they came from two different worlds - and the redhead's grin, rather than cutting the divide, did more to keep them apart.

"…So you're here," Cloud finally ventured, giving a quick glance that the assassin couldn't quite interpret back over his shoulder.

"So I am," Axel agreed without thinking too much about it. "Good to know that my little puppy will come crawling whenever it suits me. Welcome in," he drawled, smile glinting dangerously in the early-morning light as he moved out of the way with a sweep of his arm to indicate to them where to go.

"Cloud," came the voice from behind the blonde, deep and smooth like satin. "Do you know this man?" he asked coldly, gaze flickering back and forth between the two. He was dressed mostly in leather - an expensive luxury in that day and age, and his silver hair hung down almost to his feet in perfect sheets. But the most striking things about him were his eyes - they were as beautiful and unreachable as glaciers, emeralds set perfectly in a face carved from ivory. A face fit for a god.

"I know him," was Cloud's response, as close to disdain as the mild-mannered soldier could manage. "And it wasn't _you_ whose orders I followed to come here," he informed Axel with a harsh glint to his eye, walking forward through the door and surveying the surroundings.

Axel laughed at the other's defensiveness as he stepped out of the way to afford the blonde a better view. He knew that the place wasn't particularly defensible, but it was what they had - at least until they figured out that there were guards living in the house. Then they could move - but something like that would mean that Axel's bony ass in particular would be in the line of fire more than he was strictly comfortable with.

"Anyway, these are the kids," he drawled with a motion towards where Roxas and Sora were standing, watching the exchange blankly. "Now that I've done the introductions, who is this guy?" the redhead asked, slowly appreciating the form of the other man's clothing. Even though the silver-haired man was hardly his type, that didn't stop him from acknowledging that those clothes showed him off really fucking well, and that there was a lot to show off.

"I am Sephiroth," he said, almost - but not quite - haughty in his confidence, bypassing normal social convention by introducing himself as he swept by imperiously. The man's beautiful calf-length hair swept behind him in a silver mist, and Axel noticed that nobody in the room could help looking at him.

That was when he suddenly recognized the name, and the face - though he'd only previously seen it from a distance. This was not just another of ShinRa's lackeys, this was the General. _The_ General. Axel had heard that the man could eviscerate someone from ten paces back without moving a hair out of place - and given the length of the sword by his side and the appearance of those perfectly sculpted muscles, the redhead certainly didn't doubt it.

"Whoa," Axel responded, enthusiasm only partially faked. "So they sent down the General himself. How thrilling. I'm honored, really." And even though that was a lie, the sentiment behind it was genuine enough - he wondered what in fuck Roxas's father had done to warrant a visit from not only Cloud, but from General Sephiroth. Whatever that something was, it must have been really fucking important.

Sephiroth didn't respond, and the smaller captain only gave the assassin a look that probably indicated his disbelief. Likely enough, the blonde didn't quite understand why Axel was there - he knew the man well enough to know that he rarely, if ever, took on jobs that weren't immediately beneficial to him. But that was an easy enough thing to find out, so the fact that he knew didn't say much.

"What are you doing here?" Cloud asked quietly, probably not wanting his superior to hear their conversation.

"Eh, I was hired by this guy to protect the kids, same as you," the redhead lied, finding this much easier because the blonde captain had never been informed as to precisely what Axel did. Still, the look the man gave to the assassin was less than trusting.

"Alright," came his expressionless response - he'd become quite good at that since Axel had met him, at keeping his hand close to his chest - though his methods were distinctively different than the redhead's own. "But if you're here to get in the way, then I won't hesitate to makes sure you don't interfere again."

Whoa, something had crawled up his ass and died. Usually he put up with Axel's shit.

It took only a moment after that and no extraordinary amount of genius to figure out the difference - what made this time unlike other times they'd been together was the presence of that General.

_Well_, he thought to himself, _Doesn't that make things interesting._

XXX

Roxas wasn't precisely sure what was going on, but he knew that it was bright, and the light really _really_ fucking hurt. He hadn't even quite woken up yet when he had been dragged downstairs - he understood _that _much, at least - to be inspected like a horse at fucking market by a man who looked like he might have swallowed something distasteful - or maybe poisonous - in his youth and had never quite gotten rid of the aftertaste.

"I am… unused to dealing with children," he began in a rumbling baritone, clearly directing his words to the blonde who stood with their assassin - Axel. Yes. It suddenly occurred to him that it was Axel's fault he had such a huge fucking headache, because he never would have had alcohol otherwise. The thought only pissed him off more.

"Yeah? Well I'm unused to dealing with assholes, so we're even," Roxas spat back through the headache-induced haze surrounding his mental processes. Being dragged out of bed for this man's perusal wasn't exactly his idea of a good time.

The look that the man gave to him just then was less than thrilled, and the blonde met the other's glare with one of his own - equal in intensity, though admittedly bleary. Axel apparently thought all that was amusing as hell - out of the corner of his eye, Roxas could see the redhead turn to face the discussion.

"You might not wanna piss him off too bad, Sephiroth," the assassin drawled, a note of sadistic glee in his voice that wasn't difficult to recognize even through Roxas's hangover. It occurred to him within moments that the man in front of him was probably not somebody they should be addressing by his first name. "He's got some pretty sharp little fangs, you know."

"Axel," came a warning voice from the blonde, at the same time as Sora put a restraining hand on Roxas's shoulder, before he did something _really_ stupid. "Don't -"

"I would _suggest_,"Sephiroth cut in smoothly, voice silkily dangerous rather than cutting, "that you not continue to speak. It would be wise not to raise your voice to the man who will be protecting you."

Ah. So that was it - this guy was here to protect him, too. Well, fuck that.

"So that's it. How much did they pay you, hm?" he asked bitterly, not really thinking about the words that were coming out of his mouth. "How much did my life cost? A thousand? Two thousand?" He paused, turning his piercing gaze onto Cloud. "What about you? Is there a price-tag on my life?"

"Roxas!" came Sora's indignant voice from beside him, and Roxas jumped a little, having forgotten through the course of his rant that his brother was even there. The face he saw when he turned was more shocked than angry, though it was a disappointed astonishment that the blonde was sure he never wanted to see again. "How could you say things like that to them? They're here to help us!" The brunette paused in his tirade for a moment to turn towards Sephiroth.

"I'm sorry, sir. And to you," he said in Cloud's direction. "My brother's _not himself_ this morning," he informed the others, with an emphasizing jab to Roxas's ribs.

"I hope that is the case," Sephiroth intoned, once again haughty and distant, like he'd never been touched by the whole conversation at all - and only Sora's elbow poised dangerously by his ribs kept Roxas from continuing his rant. As it was, he crossed his arms petulantly, glaring at the tiles like he could make them combust by sheer force of will.

"It is," Sora informed the man with a pointed glare towards Roxas that the blonde didn't appreciate at all, "_Isn't it?"_

"…Yeah. Sorry," he grumbled, though nobody in the room was fooled into thinking that he meant it. "I -"

"In any case," Axel interrupted, heels tapping on the tile as he moved smoothly in between Sephiroth and Roxas, "Now that you two are here, I have some business that I need to take care of. You two play nice, now, while I go get some info that might just save your ass." With that, he turned to face the blonde - presumably to give him some sort of instructions - but when his vision was completely filled with Axel and nothing but, he suddenly remembered just why he'd been so pissed off at the redhead in the first place, and kneed him in the gut.

Commendably, Axel's expression didn't change at all. Actually, it was almost creepy how little he seemed to mind.

"You got that out of your system now, shrimp?" the assassin asked after a moment, that goddamn amusement dripping off of his every word. "If so, I'm heading off."

"You're not even going to bother asking what that was for?" Roxas muttered, not moving again because he realized that his pissiness had long since ceased to be reasonable, and was now directed at the world in general rather than one person in particular.

"Nope," Axel drawled, trademark smirk plastered on as he turned and left with nothing more than a two-fingered wave over his shoulder.

The really annoying part was that he was too much of a fucking asshole to even let the blonde yell at him. It figured, the bastard.

_XXX_

"I wonder if we should really be using this much energy on a rogue," came the voice from in front of him, and Marluxia's brow crinkled as he frowned at the man who'd spoken. Xigbar's expression was more or less enigmatic - half of it covered by an eye-patch to disguise an injury from long ago, and also because the smile he was wearing was more or less constant. That made him very difficult to judge, which was likely why he did it.

"I believe that we are being prudent," came the leader's smooth reply. "We can't afford to leave someone so dangerous in the field for so long," he told all assembled, eyes raking up and down the rows of people who had been called to hear this discussion, to hear someone challenge a direct order.

Xigbar had apparently been having difficulty understanding why the Organization had to spend that much time on someone so insignificant - he had felt from the very beginning that the Rogue's actions were probably a one-time thing, and that anyone killed by this man probably deserved it, for not being strong enough. But then, ever since Marluxia had ascended to the leadership position of the Organization, the other man had been looking for a way to destabilize the younger man's power - and as far as the leader could tell, it wasn't with the intention of actually usurping his position at all, but just for his own kicks.

The man failed to see, however, that having anything undermining the Organization's ability to inspire terror in the hearts of others, demeaned the very purpose of his existence. If people thought that the Organization could be bettered, they would not fear it, and they would lose what little was left of their grip on affairs. That could not be allowed to happen.

"Well, of course you believe we're being prudent," came Xigbar's derisive reply. "You're also the one who thought all of this up in the first place. I think," he continued, this time addressing the other people who were assembled there, "that he's just afraid for his own life. What the fuck are we doing with a coward in our position of leadership?"

Marluxia fixed a level, burning stare at the other.

"Cowardice and intelligence are two very different things," he responded coldly. "Your brutish shortsightedness will not be rewarded. And in answer to your challenge, the Rogue has been sending out lesser men to attempt to kill other members of the Organization." This was the time for his trump card. "It was hardly a day ago that one of his hired lackeys appeared in the home of the head of the investigation with the intent to kill."

There was a silence after that, as all present digested that new information.

"So, as you can see," Marluxia continued, savoring each word as his eyes roved the audience again, locking onto Larxene's fiercely triumphant gaze, "My judgment was correct, and the sooner we find this man, the safer our Organization will be."

There was a murmur of assent, which the man met with a simple acknowledging nod. Of course, they all assumed he was telling the truth - fools that they were. The man who had broken into Zexion's apartment had been Marluxia's own hired hand, a new man off the streets who would neither recognize or be recognized by the man he was sent to kill.

Because the end always justified the means, and when the end was the stability and safety of the Organization - well. Less conventional means would be called for.

_XXX_

_Cloud met Zack for the first time at Aerith's funeral - the former had been standing alone in a corner during the viewing, and the latter had been crying openly, if quietly, by her lidless coffin. It was true that she no longer looked like a murder victim, but her beauty - always extraordinary - had taken on an ethereal taint that was just as unbearable as the blood. It occurred to the soldier that the sight of her ashen face, perfect even in death, might send him over the edge - and so he didn't test it._

_The blonde's captain took him by surprise not so very long afterwards, seeking him out in the dark corner where he'd chosen to hide himself away._

"_Hey," he began awkwardly, clearly no surer of how to begin that conversation than Cloud himself would have been. "I heard about the death. I mean… yeah," he said, sticking out his hand for a shake, and the blonde noticed that the other man had made an attempt to dry his tears. "The name's Zack. You're one of the cadets, right?"_

_Cloud didn't want to correct the other and say that he'd been made a Major, because details like that didn't matter in the face of Aerith's death, so he just nodded._

"_I figured." There was a long, awkward silence. "Elmyra called and told me about the death. I recognized you, and figured that you… Well, I thought I'd come see how you're doing."_

_Cloud meant to say "I'm fine," but the words stuck in his throat, so he just nodded again, like he was mute._

_The other continued on nonetheless, either not noticing the blonde's reluctance or not caring._

"_You loved her, didn't you," he finally said, blue eyes shining with what Cloud didn't want to believe were repressed tears. "Maybe you weren't in love with her - and maybe you were - but you loved her."_

_The blonde started at that - what gave him the right to say that, to come barging in like he actually knew something about how much Aerith had meant to him. Like he knew something about her at _all_, about her lamb-soft gentleness and her resolute, endless determination; about her optimism and her sweet wit, or her smile as she turned in the morning sunlight._

"_What in hell makes you think -"_

"_I know," Zack interrupted simply, "Because I loved her too, once. It's… It's ok," he continued, clearly not sure exactly what he was referring to though he put and arm out tentatively to rest on Cloud's grief-tense shoulder. "I know."_

_The other man hugged him then - a strong, reassuring embrace that reminded him of _her_ - and he was strangely glad for it._

XXX

There hadn't been many of the Organization's lower-downs willing to take on the job, even without the knowledge that they were essentially disposable decoys for Zexion's plan. The smarter ones figured it out, and stayed the hell away - but the stupidly unafraid, excessively masculine ones who never would have made it past the first level anyway were the ones who volunteered. They stood there in all their brute glory as Zexion's nearly immobile frustration raised a notch, waiting for their employer's instructions.

There were two of them, and they specialized more in strength and inspiring terror than in subtlety, which suited the stronger assassin's purpose quite well - he simply needed them to walk in, and then to die. It was that simple.

"Your instructions are simple enough," he began, not allowing any of his frustration to show through. "I want one of you to enter the mansion -" he gestured towards a large, gold-trimmed house down the street as he said it "- through a window on the first level. The second should enter on the second level. You will find the child in one of the bedrooms, like we discussed, but you will do away with anyone else you meet."

Though he had no real hope for there not being bodyguards in the mansion - a family with that much money and power could hire whoever they liked to protect them, especially after the incident with their mother - the real intent was simply to scope out their defenses and the house's layout. He hoped that at least one would make it out - the guards wouldn't be exceptionally strong, after all - and he could decide what to do from there.

He didn't give a second thought to sacrificing his subordinates - and in that way, he and the Rogue were more similar than he'd care to admit.

XXX

It was Sora who first asked the question that he and his brother had both been thinking, once they were comfortably upstairs with the blonde. The silver-haired statue of a man had informed them directly after Axel's departure that he would be patrolling the ground floor to ensure that no-one entered that way, entrusting the actual guarding to his companion. The brunette couldn't help but noticed how the smaller man fairly well lit up at those instructions, though the larger clearly didn't see it - and he still had a kind of glow about him as he sat on a wooden chair beside his charges.

That, and his brother's current occupation with a novel in the corner of the room, made it an excellent time to ask awkward questions.

"So," Sora began, smiling brightly at the guard as he sat on the floor next to the chair, because the man generally kind of looked like he needed one. "Uh… It's very nice of you and all, but why, exactly, are you here?" The words fell out of his mouth rather faster than he had intended, and Sora was just grateful that he had managed to get them all out in the correct order.

The blonde soldier turned slowly, silent reverie broken, and fixed him with an astonishing blue gaze that Sora was quite sure he'd never seen the likes of before. With that surprise on his mind, it took a few seconds before the brunette really realized that he was being analyzed. Politely, carefully analyzed - but analyzed nonetheless.

"What's your name?" the man asked bluntly, though his gracelessness seemed more due to a natural awkwardness with people than to any impoliteness on his part.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the brunette exclaimed, eyes wide, when he grasped just what the other was asking. "I didn't realize I was being so rude. I'm Sora, and this is Roxas. Nice to meet you," he said with a grin, extending a hand - which the other shook uncomfortably, like he was unused to the gesture. "And you are?" he responded, completely forgetting about the question he had asked only seconds before.

"Cloud. Cloud Strife." The man's piercingly blue gaze didn't leave Sora for an instant, and the brunette could almost see the other's mind working underneath, like he was trying to figure something out.

"Oh. That's… That's an interesting name," the boy commented tentatively. He didn't want to be tactless, but "Strife" was a rather unfortunate name, and he _really_ wanted to ask where it came from.

The other man shrugged, gaze finally leaving Sora's face, for which he found himself more grateful than he wanted to admit.

"I've had it all my life. I guess you'd know better than I would," Cloud intoned, spiky mess of blonde hair quivering as he turned his gaze back towards the floor.

"Yeah? I mean… It's kind of… unfortunate, you know?" Sora noted, forgetting his earlier concerns about tact in the intensity of his interest. "I can't help but wonder who on earth had such bad luck - however long ago it was that people were named - that they got named 'Strife.'"

It took about twenty seconds for the blonde's face to turn slowly back to his own, but when it did, it was with a look of laughter that seemed entirely out of place on his countenance, though not at all unpleasant.

"I guess I never thought of it that way," came his somewhat mystified, thoroughly amused reply.

"Hey, it's great that you're having bonding time and all," Roxas interrupted before Cloud could say anything else, never taking his eyes off his book. "But, I'm pretty sure discussing the origins of our bodyguard's last name isn't going to help us figure out just what the fuck is going on here." The hangover clearly wasn't helping Roxas's natural congeniality any, the brunette noted as his brother went back to whatever novel he was reading.

He did have a point, however, and Sora turned back to the other man with an expectant look. Nothing in the brunette's life had quite made sense since his mother's sudden illness and miraculous recovery, and somewhere in the back of his mind he was probably expecting Cloud to be able to answer all of those questions, though he never would have admitted it.

"Right." A pause. "You were saying?" He really did want to know just where these miraculous saviors had come from - and what, precisely, they were doing there.

It wasn't so much that he didn't trust them, after all, as that he didn't understand them - and understanding people was, to Sora, more than a hobby; it was a necessity. He couldn't comprehend going about his life like his brother, content in his solitude - and neither could he wait around for fate to happen to him without understanding the nature of his danger.

XXX

The burnt orange theme of Demyx and Zexion's apartment had probably cost them a lot more to create than it was worth, from Axel's - admittedly aesthetically lacking - perspective. But, it was kind of comforting and kind of infuriating to realize that something so simple could remain completely unchanged in the middle of such violent turmoil.

He wasn't quite sure whether that made him want to walk right back out the door and leave the lovebirds alone, or burn the whole fucking place down. So, he settled for something halfway in between, noting for amusement or later use that Demyx still - _still_, after all these years - forgot to lock his door.

"Hey," he greeted casually upon entering, giving a nod to the blonde who apparently was currently sprawled out on and occupying about half of the furniture in the room, defying all kinds of logical rules in the process. "Long time no see, huh?"

The blonde's eyes fairly well lit up as they settled on the redhead's lanky form, framed by the light coming through the doorway at twisted angles.

"Axel?" he asked with more excitement than seemed possible in such a small frame, leaping up from where he had been sitting and scattering the sheet music he'd been reading all across the floor in the process. "It's been so long!" It hadn't been _that_ long, but Axel wasn't about to mention that. "It's good to know you're ok. How've you been?"

"Good, good," the redhead responded vaguely, brushing a chair free from its sheet music coating before sitting down in it. "Just stopped by to see how things were." A lie, of course - Axel never paid social calls.

"So," he continued, leonine grin paper-sharp, "how've you been? How's your lover-boy been?"

"We've been fine. I got a gig at one of the swanky hotels on the west side last night, something regular that'll keep going as long as I want it to," he informed the other, eyes dancing with excitement both at the arrival of his friend, and having a steady performance opportunity. Axel knew that the money didn't even occur to him at all - Demyx still had a rich boy's tendency to not notice anything monetary in nature. He was lucky that he had a lover with a steady income, because he'd never make it on his own.

And Axel was even luckier that the blonde's boyfriend was Zexion, because with Demyx's unknowing, innocent assistance, he could keep tabs on what the Organization was doing without anyone knowing what he was up to. He'd always known that it would come in handy someday - one of the reasons he'd kept his relationship with said blonde going for so long. Anyone less useful - and admittedly, less amusing - he would have cut himself off from a long time before.

"Yeah?" he responded as the blonde sat down on one of the long couches, apparently unable to stop himself from bouncing once or twice just to test its firmness. "Izzat so. I always knew you'd make it." Another lie.

"Really?" the other asked happily, and Axel felt a twinge of something - surely he wasn't growing a conscience after all these years - because the blonde seemed to actually believe it. "Well, that makes me happy." There was a pause as Demyx absently rearranged the cushions to afford him a more comfortable sitting position. "In any case, what have you been up to?"

"Been here and there, fucking things up as usual." He paused then, expression gaining an almost invisible sharpness. This was his moment. "There's some major shit about to happen. Has Zexion made plans to get you the hell out of here yet?"

There was another long silence, and the two men just sat, staring at each other across the emptiness of the room.

"No," Demyx began slowly, smile fading with the realization that the redhead was serious. "Should he have?"

Axel shrugged expressively, motion not hindered any by his tightly tailored suit, and gave his companion a sober look.

"I dunno. But the whole Organization's about to get wrapped up in something big. Hasn't he said anything to you?" he asked, tone biting, unable to resist the sadistic temptation to plant a few seeds of doubt in the blonde's mind.

"Well… He's been kind of busy lately, I guess, so maybe… Or maybe he's wrapped up in all of this himself, so he can't leave." He paused, and Axel waited expectantly for the blonde to continue, which he did momentarily. "Zexion got a big assignment a little bit ago - the kind that keep him busy for weeks. It has to do with some trouble in the Organization, a fight inside it or something. I think he's in charge of rooting out a troublemaker, or something. I didn't exactly get the details."

The words flashed through Axel's mind with the burning intensity of an opiate, leaving a trail behind them where the nerves were just beginning to focus. As the embers coalesced, slowly, he understood suddenly what that meant - at least for this first round, his invisible opponent was Zexion; a man whom he knew, with whom he had a tentative understanding, though he might not have had any particular like for the other assassin. A man whose lover sat in front of him, small mouth partially open as he waited for the redhead's response.

_Well,_ _that makes several things easier_, was Axel's first coherent thought after putting the pieces together, face immobile as he disguised the time he took for thinking by sliding back in his chair into a more comfortably slouched position. He slowly put an elbow on the cushioned arm so he could prop up his face with the back of his spidery hand, watching his companion.

"Huh. Is that his job then? Good for him." He glanced around for a moment, not bothering to move anything but his eyes. "So where is the son of a bitch now?"

"I think he said that he's out working now."

The redhead's eyes flashed in victory at that - he'd suspected all along that this morning would be the latest possible time for a first attack, and so he wanted to distance himself from the scene if at all possible. The fact that Zexion was out working meant that someone was about to attack the kids, and he knew that this was the best possible sequence of events.

Them attacking now left him in the clear with an undeniable alibi when the bodies of whatever lackeys Zexion had forced into taking this job showed up, bloody. This optimistic view, of course, ignored the irrational, creeping fear of Roxas's slow and painful death - he didn't want to acknowledge that he was afraid, because somehow that made the possibility more real.

"Oh?" A pause. "I want to say hello to the bastard." If he's smart enough not to attack in person, and so survives the assault. "Can I lounge at your place for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure!" Demyx responded enthusiastically, with no understanding whatsoever of what he had just agreed to.

XXX

There was an ease between Sora and his guard that was inexplicable by logic as they sat together - though Cloud was watching the ground, he could feel the younger's curious gaze on his face. Their effortless understanding was strange - there weren't many people that the soldier took easily to, but it seemed that such camaraderie came easily to the young brunette.

"You want to know why I'm here," Cloud stated rather than asked, and continued without waiting for a response. "Easy. I'm a captain for ShinRa's private army, and they ordered me to guard you." There were only so many things that could be done by diplomacy - and though the captain had done his best, the Organization had been non-compliant, so violence was their next option.

"I see." The younger lay down then, probably to get into a more comfortable position. "So, two things," he continued, deciding not to ask about the money. "Why do they want you to guard us, first of all, and secondly, who's that guy with you? The one downstairs, I mean."

Cloud knew that his surprise probably read quite easily on his face - but the idea of _anyone_ in Chicago, especially one so privileged, not knowing of the General was almost inconceivable.

"The man downstairs is Sephiroth, General of the ShinRa private army. I'm surprised you haven't heard of him," the soldier informed Sora with an attempt to keep his face and tone neutral that he knew probably failed. He never could be objective about that man - and he didn't quite understand why he would need to be, anyway.

"And," Cloud continued, "we were asked to guard you, so that we could hurt the Organization that is targeting you."

The assassination of their chief scientist, Hojo, had hardly been a loss from Cloud's personal viewpoint - the man had a disturbing tendency towards testing all of his latest performance-enhancing materials on the ShinRa soldiers. They worked, however - and the corporation's administration cared more about results than it did about methods, so Hojo had been a prized member of their staff - despite the fact that his latest project had involved giving soldiers tiny doses of arsenic in the hopes that they would become immunized to it in time.

The blonde had very vivid memories of lying on the floor in the lavatory as he purged the poison from his system. It wasn't exactly the kind of memory that would endear a person to you.

"Oh? So the Organization did something to you guys. What was it, if you don't mind me asking?" Sora questioned, words cutting into the soldier's thoughts.

He didn't answer, because his senses abruptly focused on something distant - he wasn't quite sure whether he'd heard it or not, but he was sure enough to put his hand on the revolver at his waist and slowly, silently, move to pick up his sword from where it rested against the wall.

"Cloud?" Sora ventured, and the soldier fixed him with a look. Roxas, noting the tense silence, looked up from his book in the corner and, seeing Cloud carefully picking up his weapon, slid the book shut, pale look of fright growing on his face.

He didn't say anything to them, but gave a nod to Roxas - the blonde understood better than his brother what needed to be done. The boy made a quick gesture to call his brother over, and the brunette obeyed, leaving the floor clear for when - not if, more noises down the hallway had negated that possibility - something would happen.

He moved to the doorway and opened it slowly, pulling upwards on the door-handle to negate the squeaking of rusty hinges as he glanced around the area directly surrounding the opening - the only thing worse than letting your position be known was a surprise attack, and Cloud was more than willing to make the sacrifice in order to know where his opponent was. It took only a few seconds for him to see the killer, delicately peeking into another door in the hallway.

Drawing back inside, he moved towards the side of the doorframe - and when the intruder came to it with the intention of looking in, Cloud's sword met in a violent way with his stomach, bright velvet blood spurting out over his silver blade in familiar twisting patterns. It took only a moment to realize that he had not made a killing blow - likely an instinct born of guarding, when his employers wanted the men he was attacking alive. He let the man drop down onto the carpet, ignoring the muffled gasps from the corner as the man's blood soaked into the carpet.

He would have - admittedly reluctantly - moved forward to make the killing blow, except that his line of vision was interrupted by Sephiroth's appearance at the door, calm and collected as ever though his silver hair was stained through with red. Another moment, and he saw the head in his General's left hand - bodiless and crying out in pain, the foam of fear still in its frozen mouth as the muscles hung limply down from the skull, flayed by accident rather than design.

"I see," he said, not bothering to detail what he meant by that. A silent step forward. "He isn't dead."

"No, sir," Cloud responded with a tinge of shame - just one thing, and he hadn't even managed…

"That is for the better," Sephiroth said before Cloud could continue, giving the man's back a light tap with his booted foot. "I require him to remove the body of his companion. He is in the foyer. Cloud," he continued with a nod in the blonde's direction, "escort him out."

And with that, he dropped his disembodied head onto the floor behind the dead man where he lay, laboring to breathe, halfway in between the room and the hallway. There was a moment, in between helping the man to stand and handing him the head of his dead companion, when he wondered whether what he was doing was right - but the moment quickly passed, and he assisted the intruder downstairs. When they had both left, he began to clean up their blood without so much as a stray thought.

XXX

XXX

Comment if you like? Even just a word would be lovely…


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

From the beginning, it had been quite obvious that the mission was going to be a failure - but it hadn't quite struck Zexion just how spectacular the failure would be until one of his lackeys stumbled out the front gates of the mansion. He had planned for that part - what he hadn't foreseen was the man's burden, the lifeless body of his companion. He wondered for a moment where the head was, before he realized that it had been tucked securely between the bodies of the two men, so that only the wide open, frozen eyes could be seen.

Frustration didn't even begin to cover his feelings at the sight.

Judging by the faltering step, the living one had clearly been injured in some fashion, probably severely - and that made things doubly annoying. If left to his own devices, there was always a change that the man would fall and be unable to get up, to be found on the front porch of the family's mansion by the police or someone equally irritating.

The Organization didn't like the police involved unless it could absolutely not be prevented, and Zexion didn't want to be the one to tell his leader that there was a squadron of cops surrounding the family.

So, as soon as his lackey had left the mansion's line of sight - and was suitably far outside the neighborhood - Zexion materialized out of the shadows between two buildings, where he had been following the man's progress.

"What happened," he hissed, voice cold enough to freeze on contact.

"It was - the rogue," the other managed to gasp out, charcoal eyes dilated in pain. "It was two guys, though." He paused then, as if he had the decency to be ashamed by his failure. "I didn't see the stronger one's face."

"Is that so." Two rogues rather than one - it was an interesting concept, and one he would have to think over. Up until then, they had been thinking that there had been only one - but two, working together…

However, given the nature of assassins, it was highly unlikely that two of such high caliber had forged a strong enough trust to attempt something of that magnitude together. Possibly a hired underling - but that was a thought for later. The important thing in that moment was that, apparently, the Rogue was guarding the mansion and the people inside.

That new piece of information, while not precisely revolutionary, certainly made things more complicated - the Rogue was certainly no idiot; but he had taken on an assignment that would, by nature, reveal his position at any given time, which made him easier to stop. Zexion couldn't believe that it was a simple lack of judgment, from a man who was evidently of that caliber. In addition to that, instead of merely hiding himself and the people he was protecting, or killing both of the intruders, he had chosen to leave one alive. What message was he trying to send?

The next thought on his mind was, how had the rogue known that the family was going to be attacked? That pointed to information on the inside - the idea, previously repressed, that the man might have been a member of the Organization crept unbidden into his mind. But that left the question of why, precisely, he had chosen to leave the family inside of the mansion. However, perhaps he had just been hired by the family as a bodyguard - because logically, the first thing one did when protecting someone from a known threat was to remove them from an easily located area.

At least the mission hadn't been a complete failure - it certainly left him with a lot to think about.

"Well," Zexion began slowly, eyes focusing back on the bloodstained face of the man in front of him, "your assistance has been most useful. I hereby terminate your contract."

And with that, he pulled his knife and slit the other man's throat, watching the blood bubble and well out of the new wound as the new corpse fell to the ground atop the old.

The decision was a simple one, because it just meant one less loose end to tie up. He turned then and, putting the hood back up on his jacket, cleaned his knife on the man's shirt, and left towards home.

XXX

"Well, you won that one," came Larxene's mockingly silky voice from where she had remained as the others had drained out of the meeting room, standing with her wait shifted to one leg and her arms crossed. She looked like a woman about to defy authority, but Marluxia couldn't quite decide whether or not he was in the mood for that.

"So I did," he agreed as he sat back down at his desk, eyes falling coldly on the blonde in front of him. She took a couple of steps forward so that she was properly at his desk and then, sitting on it quite comfortably, gave him a look that was meant to start something.

"So what I wanna know is," she continued, green eyes flashing with either malice or amusement, "what's got you so uptight about this Rogue? You've been acting like someone just sent you a death warrant ever since he came up the first time." She paused then to give a girlish giggle, eyes flashing. Her laugh sounded like something from beyond the grave, which Marluxia was quite sure that she used to her advantage.

"Ever since I noticed that," she began again, "I've been watching you - so I know that the man who attacked Zexion's place was under your contract, not the Rogue's. None of my business, sure, but I was curious - I can only figure that it's because you want this guy out of the picture as soon as fucking possible and are willing to do whatever it takes to scare your men into following orders."

He snapped his head up then and really looked at her, almost surprised by her perceptiveness, and her gaze only sharpened at this acknowledgement.

"So, what's got you so on edge?" she asked, probably less because she really wanted to find out than because she wanted to challenge him.

"It's none of your concern," he replied dismissively, going back to his papers in a futile attempt to derail her.

"Fuck that. What are you so afraid of?"

That brought up a world of things that he didn't even want to begin to discuss - the thought in the back of his mind that he barely even acknowledged, the fear that this rogue was better than him and would eventually challenge for the leadership. The fear that having such an open challenge would undermine the Organization's strength until it would fall apart from the inside out. In essence, what it all boiled down to was a fear of losing power.

Instead of saying any of those things, he met her eyes again and stood, using his height to his advantage.

"You of all people," he began, voice halfway between a growl and a purr, "should understand the importance of asserting one's power." In a flash, he had grabbed her neck across the desk, forcing her jaw upwards into a position of complete vulnerability. "I take no challengers."

In a flash, she was around the table with her weapon to his throat, and they remained that way for a moment, at an impasse, until Marluxia moved again, pressing their bodies together and shoving a thigh between her legs more in an act of domination than passion. Her blade dug into his neck then, only a paper's width away from taking his life.

"And I have no master," she purred, leaning forward to where their lips were almost touching - but then abruptly she pulled away, out of his grip completely. She walked out the door, then, with that smile - the devil's own smile, on a woman's face - leaving Marluxia to watch her receding back and wonder.

XXX

The door to Zexion's apartment was - frustratingly - unlocked as he entered, and he reminded himself silently to tell his lover that it was not an acceptable practice at the next available opportunity. Clearly, now was not a good time, because there was another occupant of their large couch - and that shock of red hair was unmistakable.

"Axel," he intoned, not bothering to hide his distaste, "What brings you here."

Demyx and his companion both looked up from the pile of sheet music they had been poring over as if surprised by his intrusion, though Zexion knew that the other assassin could hardly have been surprised by his entry. The sight of that man's face had set into motion all of his thoughts from earlier about the identity of their rogue, and an idea began to swim at the back of his mind that he didn't want to put into words just yet.

"Ah, Zexion," the redhead drawled, eyes glinting as he straightened up. "Nice of you to join us. Your little lover-boy here was just nice enough to start teaching me how to read sheet music."

"Yeah. So how was your morning, Zexy?" Demyx asked, getting up from the couch to give Zexion a kiss on the cheek. He didn't move or respond, still staring at the man until it clicked - the rogues actions were all Axel's style. It reeked of Axel's contradiction's - Axel's brash subtlety, Axel's disregard for authority, Axel's…

His thoughts were interrupted by his lover's voice again, this time from somewhere much closer to his ear, and he gave a quick start.

"Axel's been here all morning," Demyx continued, recognizing that his lover wasn't about to answer his previous question. "I taught him to play a little bit of the piano." A pause. "Please don't be mad," he pleaded, clearly thinking that was the reason for Zexion's silence.

"I'm not mad," he said, shaking himself out of his reverie - the man had been at his lover's apartment all morning. He looked completely untroubled - not the face of a man who had just run to Zexion's apartment from killing people. The assassin couldn't have been in the mansion that morning. "I'm just thinking. Sorry."

The look he fixed Axel with was less than apologetic - despite his logic, he still couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Saving that rumination for later, he pulled himself out of his thoughtful trance to give a small smile to his lover, who returned the sentiment with his own, relieved grin.

"Anyway, just wanted to see what you were up to," the redhead drawled, standing and stretching a bit, catlike. "I have places to be now, money to make. You know the drill."

As Axel walked out, though Zexion told himself he was being paranoid, he couldn't help but fixate on that feeling in his gut. Something simply wasn't right.

XXX

Almost half an hour had passed since the intrusion, and the blood was almost gone from the tile floor in the entryway - and the carpet upstairs - thanks to Cloud's dedication. The light from the windows had just hit the angle where it would pour in a flood over the floor, illuminating everything with a pale golden tone, and Cloud couldn't help but admire the opulence as he sat on the landing of the stairs, just down the hallway from the boys, staring through the railway onto the floor below.

"You're done then." Sephiroth's voice cut through the air effortlessly, making Cloud jump - he hadn't even heard the general walk up to him; but then, he never could. The blonde gave a nod in assent, finding himself unable to speak as his voice caught in his throat - but then, nothing really needed to be said anyway. There was a long silence that was likely more awkward for the blonde captain than for his general as the larger watched flakes of dust shine in the morning sunbeams, and Cloud watched the other with as much subtlety as he was capable.

"I wished to ask you," the general said after a moment, voice not breaking the quiet so much as it slid over it. "Why did you not kill that man?"

Cloud blinked then, taken aback by the question, as Sephiroth's emerald gaze turned to meet his.

"I don't know," the blonde responded quietly, shrugging. He just didn't aim to kill if he could help it, he supposed.

"Regardless of his later use, killing him might have been the wiser decision." Sephiroth's tone betrayed no emotion, gave the other no hint as to what he was thinking, why he was asking these things.

"I know." And he did.

"You are fully capable of doing so, and have killed before."

Cloud shrugged - it had just been instinct, he couldn't explain it. He would never have even given it a second thought if it hadn't been for his general's sudden interest.

"I'm sorry," the blonde responded. "I won't disappoint you again."

The general shook his head, hair cascading in ripples then gently falling back into place.

"You were not a disappointment, soldier. I was simply curious."

The man didn't say anything else, but that was probably for the best - because after that, even if he had, Cloud probably wouldn't have been able to respond.

XXX

Axel arrived back at the mansion within an hour, after sufficient detours and other stops to confuse any watchers - though he suspected that there hadn't been any, it never hurt to be careful. In fact, being careful when he hadn't thought it was necessary had saved his life a couple of times. Entering through the servants' doorway in the kitchen, he found the mansion to be - unsurprisingly - as he left it. If there was one thing those ShinRa bastards could do, it was kill a man - so he had no fear for Roxas's life, really, or at least any more than the constant tension that had been a part of his thoughts ever since meeting the little blonde.

With no particular care for who heard, he strode forward into the echoing entryway, and noticed Cloud at the top of the grand staircase, sitting with his back to the wall, his sword on his lap, and a distant look on his face.

"Yo, Spike," he greeted the other with a wave, moving up the stairs effortlessly. "How were things while I was gone? I heard there was some excitement."

Cloud focused instantly on the redhead as soon as he spoke, tensing and then relaxing as if he couldn't have been sure who it was. Once he'd decided that nothing was out of the ordinary, he gave the redhead an assenting nod - which wasn't much, all things considered.

"You get rid of them?"

Another nod - the guy was clearly not in the here and now, or at least not paying much attention to it. He was only fun to tease when he squirmed, and only interesting when he was fun to tease, so Axel moved on without another word to the room where the brothers were probably staying. Amusingly enough, the General Sephiroth was standing guard outside the door, like a common thug on his boss's important shipment. He didn't look particularly happy about it either - and keeping allies happy was generally a good way to keep 'em allies, if you were gonna need them more than once. That didn't happen often.

"Yo, Seph." The man flinched almost unnoticeably at the nickname, but the assaassin continued nonetheless. "You can get yourself the fuck outta here if you want, for now. I've got this covered."

"…I will stay for as long as it pleases me," he responded after a pause, meeting Axel's eyes with what amounted to a total, and completely justified, self-confidence.

The redhead shrugged, hands up in defeat.

"If you want. But I'm sure ShinRa's general has more important things to do than guard a couple of kids when the other security's pretty fucking close to perfect." Axel wasn't exactly lacking in self-confidence, either.

"If you feel that you do not need me -"

"Whoa, back up now. Never said that - you just look really pissed off standing there doing nothin', 's all. Thought I'd tell you it's ok to go do somethin' more productive. You can stay if you want, though," he informed the other, giving his head a shake. There was no pleasing some people.

"…Your offer is… appreciated," Sephiroth responded after a moment, creamy baritone smooth, but uncertain. He probably wasn't much in the habit of thanking people - but then, he was the general of ShinRa's private army, and he probably got whatever the hell he wanted delivered to him.

"Don't mention it," was Axel's casual response as he opened the door and walked in, leaving the General to his own devices.

The scene in front of him as he entered was unexpected, at best; the two brothers were sitting together on the edge of the bed, talking in quiet voices as the redhead entered. But what really stood out was the fact that the little brunette - Sora, he remembered - looked like he was halfway to shock, and Roxas was talking at him with a tinge of panic in his voice that was recognizable even though the assassin couldn't hear his mumbled words.

"Uh," he began, for once not quite sure where to start. What to do when people started hyperventilating in terror wasn't exactly one of the lessons that being an assassin would teach to you.

"Oh, you're back," Roxas said, sparing an angry glance at the assassin. "What the fuck have you been doing? We were _attacked_ and you weren't here."

Uh, how to explain this without actually _explaining _it.

"It's complicated, kid. You should keep out of it." A pause. "Uh, you gonna do something about your kid brother?" Right when he said that, he knew it had been a mistake - but it was too late to take it back.

The blonde's eyes widened in an instant, and he turned furiously to face the other man, lines of anger furrowed onto his forehead.

"He just saw his first death. Maybe _you_ were all calm and collected when you saw your first man killed, but _he's_ not, so _back the fuck off_."

"Roxas," he began, struggling with the words - apologies didn't come any easier to him than they did to the General. "I didn't mean…" His voice drifted off then, unable, for once, to talk his way out of it.

"Of course you didn't," the boy responded, voice suddenly tired and world-weary in a way that it shouldn't have been. "I just…" His eyes flickered to the side, to where his brother was avidly watching, but not interrupting.

"Hey, Sora?" Roxas began without finishing his last statement, the fire in his eyes - thankfully - cooling. Axel wasn't entirely sure how long he could have held out against the blonde's fury, because he didn't know what he'd do when it was really genuine and not just an automatic, knee-jerk reaction. He hoped never to be in that position again - though he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth when it really mattered.

"Yeah?" Sora's voice didn't quake at all, as Axel expected it might have. Evidently the boy was stronger than he thought - but then, he was Roxas's brother, and the two were probably similar in more than just looks.

"Can you go sit with Cloud for a bit? I need to talk to Axel."

"…If you really want me to, Rox," came the brunette's response, and he eyed the two of them, one after the other, with a perceptiveness that was kind of disturbing in one so young. Not, of course, that he was so much younger than Roxas. He didn't really want to think about that one too hard, though.

The boy left slowly and gracelessly - not at all like his sleek older brother - and the assassin almost changed his mind about them being similar. The younger was so optimistic, so hopeful about life in general, so _childish_ - and the blonde was the exact opposite in those regards. And yet, watching Roxas smile at his brother and the other smile back, it was almost like a mirror.

As soon as Sora was out the door, the blonde cleared his throat, probably trying to find a way to begin, and looked back up at the redhead.

"Sorry. About that, I mean. It wasn't your fault," he admitted, halfway grudgingly and halfway shamed.

"Yeah," was Axel's only acknowledgment of that apology. He sat down next to the blonde on his bed, slouching over forward comfortably, and watched the floor as they continued their conversation. "You need t' lighten up, Rox. Life ain't gonna get any easier, so you might as well deal with it now," he informed the other with an amusement tinged with an almost undetectable bitterness. He paused then, turning a bit so that he could glance sidelong on the blonde.

"I'm gonna make sure that shit turns out right for you though, kid," he stated quietly - and it was a more honest statement than he could remember having said in a very long time.

"Are you? Really?" Roxas asked, eyes locked on Axel's in what was a moment - their first moment - of bare, open honesty. The redhead sat up, slowly, and gave the other a small smile, one completely and totally unlike the smile he gave the rest of the world. It wasn't brilliant, he knew, not blinding or beautiful or any of the things that the blonde's rare expression was - but it was honest, and that was something. More than he'd ever given anyone else.

"Yeah," he responded, voice steadier than he thought it would have been. "I'll fucking make sure of it."

In a perfect world, maybe Axel would have leaned forward then and kissed those perfect, waiting lips. Maybe he would have held the blonde and told him that everything was going to be alright, and maybe Roxas would have believed him.

But as it was, they just watched each other across the endless abyss of the distance between them - the inches stretched on as if they were worlds - and they waited.

XXX

After Axel's departure, it had taken less than ten minutes for Demyx and Zexion's quiet discussion to escalate into what might have been considered a real fight, if either of them were capable of raising their voices to the other. Instead, as the blonde's voice became more passionate, his lover's became less so, until it was more a business of chipping away at a mountaintop than a real, logical discussion.

"I don't want to _leave_ you, Zexy!" Demyx began, half-pleading and half-stating. He hadn't yet reached his limit - but it would come soon, if his lover kept insisting that the blonde be taken away to someplace safe while he himself faced all of the danger.

"It's for your own good," Zexion replied, voice and face both expressionless in the way that he became when something was _really_ upsetting him.

"Axel isn't trying to hurt me!" He didn't quite get why his lover wouldn't _see_ that - Axel might not have been the most trustworthy person ever, but they had known each other for _years_.

"It's not just Axel. The situation with my work requires that you leave Chicago," the other intoned, shifting his weight uncomfortably. The blonde knew that his lover didn't like to fight with him - hated it, really - but this was something that he was going to fight on. He'd just gotten a regular gig, and he had _friends_ - not to mention that the idea of leaving Zexion behind to face danger alone while he himself went off to be safe just didn't sit right with the musician.

"Zexion," the blonde responded, frustrated, "You are the most important thing in the world to me. I'm willing to hide and be careful or whatever you want, but I'm _not _going to leave you here to face whatever this is by _yourself_."

"You don't understand the danger."

"I might if you trusted me enough to tell me!" he finally said, voice escalating in intensity until it broke under the force of his own fear and anger.

Those last words hung in the air between them, bringing on a heavy, suffocating silence. As they stared at each other

"I didn't mean that, Zexion - I mean, I did, but I didn't mean to say it in that -"

"It's alright," the other interrupted, casting his eyes down onto the floor as if hoping that by hiding his gaze, he might pretend that those words had never been said.

"No, it's not. I'm sorry," Demyx told the other, wide-eyed and apologetic, not for a moment regretting his decision to take back the words he'd said in a moment of thoughtlessness. He really hadn't meant to say that - his own private annoyance at the stifling, silent nature of Zexion's protectiveness was minor, at worst, and had never been important enough for him to bring up. He might have liked being told what was going on, it was true - but just the same, he understood that his lover was a solitary man by disposition, and that the character of his work also necessitated a certain degree of silence.

He paused after that, taking a step forward and putting his hand comfortably on Zexion's shoulder, giving the other a sad smile that was rife with apology.

"For what it's worth, now - I'll live wherever you want," the blonde finally conceded. "With the condition that it's within the city. And… I'd really like for you to come see me. A lot," he added with a sheepish grin and a sparkle in his eye, determined to forget about their earlier disagreement. He didn't really know how long he could go without seeing his Zexy, and he wasn't really eager to test it. "Don't think that this separate living situation thing means that you get to forget about me."

Zexion's smile was slower - smaller, maybe a little less open - but it was genuine, and that was more than enough.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

XXX

There was something strange in Cloud's demeanor that Sora couldn't quite pinpoint as he exited the bedroom so as to give Axel and his brother some kind of privacy. Maybe it was the way he was standing, or maybe the expression on his face, or maybe both - he seemed so sad, most of the time. But whatever might have been his reasons, he saw his guardian then and wanted to talk to him, wanted to figure out what it was that made the man the way he was.

His thoughts distracted him, thankfully, from contemplating his earlier fright - for someone as kindhearted as Sora was, seeing that much blood and a person's bodiless head had been a shock, and it had only been his extraordinarily strong constitution that had prevented him from being sick on the floor. But, he wasn't the sort of person to dwell, or to blame Cloud for what he had seen - the blonde had been trying to protect them, and in any case, he hadn't actually _killed_ anyone.

So, he walked up to join the soldier where he stood in the hallway, greeting the man's questioning blue gaze with a grin. People liked to be around happy people after all, and Cloud looked like he might could use a smile or two.

"Hey," Sora began with a friendly wave, walking to where he could stand beside the older man. A pause. "So, how are you holding up? It must be rough, waiting around here for something to happen without anything to do."

The look Cloud gave him then was unreadable.

"…It's not so bad," the blonde responded, watching the other's every move while Sora waited for a continuation that never came. He didn't seem to be much of a talker - so the brunette took the rest of that burden on himself. He could at least keep the man occupied for a little while.

"Yeah? Seems like it'd be rough," the younger commented, leaning back comfortably on the railing of the balcony that separated him from the fifteen foot drop to the entryway floor. "But then, I guess you're used to it, huh? I bet you do that a lot as a soldier." Hearing no response from the captain, the brunette continued cheerily. "So why'd you get into ShinRa's army, anyway?" Sora asked, crossing his arms more for casual comfort than out of defensiveness.

The blonde soldier gave him another look then, surprise evident in his eyes.

"…They offered me a chance to join them, and I accepted," the man responded slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure whether or not he wanted to continue that conversation.

The brunette was mildly surprised by that - switching armies for a pay raise didn't exactly seem like the right thing to do, and Cloud seemed like a pretty decent guy. Sora had the feeling that he was a good person, underneath the morose demeanor and cold soldier's exterior.

"…You switched for money? I can't believe you'd do something like that, Cloud," the brunette admonished, using the other man's first name as if they'd known each other for months instead of just hours. "Didn't you join the US army for a reason? Didn't you join to protect the people you loved?" His words were more assumption than knowledge, but he never had been able to stand seeing people give up on their ideals. It was sad in a way that he didn't even have words to explain.

There was a long silence after that, as the blonde's surprise melted away, as the man took in everything Sora had said.

"Yeah," he finally replied, staring at the floor like he didn't quite want to meet the younger's eyes. "But money wasn't the only reason."

That at least was good - Sora couldn't stand the idea of people doing things just for money. It seemed somehow ignoble - but then he had never starved.

"Oh?" came Sora's response. "What did you do it for, then?" There was another long silence, and Cloud's eyes shifted restlessly across the floor.

"…I was following someone I admire," the blonde intoned, voice low, but Sora detected a note of something he couldn't quite understand. So, without other options to turn to, the most obvious route was just to ask. Subtlety had never been one of his strong points, anyway.

"Really? He must have been a great guy." He paused. "What's he like?" the brunette asked, realizing that he wouldn't know a name if it was given to him anyway.

Cloud gave a tiny, private smile then, almost invisible in the line of his perpetually immobile mouth.

"You're a curious one."

Sora gave a shrug and a smile, kicking one foot absently.

"Well, I like to get to know the people around me. You seem like you have an interesting story. It would kind of be a shame to not meet you while you're here." One could never have too many friends, because you could never know when you might could help somebody, or vice versa.

"…I guess." There was an amused sort of resignation in his voice that Sora took to mean that the soldier didn't particularly mind. After another pause, he continued, back on their earlier topic, without any kind of preface. "He is a great man." His words dropped from his mouth with a fervent kind of intensity that the brunette hadn't heard yet from Cloud, and putting that together with what he had gleaned from earlier, and his faint knowledge of human nature…

"…It's General Sephiroth, isn't it." Sora took the shocked lack of a response as an affirmation. "It sounds like you more than just admire him," the brunette noted with his characteristic grin, just stating more than accusing.

Cloud didn't respond to that, blue eyes bright and wide with surprise as he stared. It kind of made Sora proud, actually, that he could pick up on something that apparently wasn't normally obvious.

"So does he know, or what?" the younger asked cheerily. "You should probably tell him, you know, if he doesn't." It had never made sense why people would want to keep these things quiet.

"You're different from anyone I've ever met before," came the soldier's faintly incredulous response, staring at the younger with a dawning look of realization.

"Is that a bad thing?" Sora asked with a laugh.

"…No. Just different."

"So, have you told him?"

"No," Cloud responded, gaze shifting down to the floor again. He must not have been a particularly open person - but even closed-off people needed someone to talk to.

"Well why not? You never know what he'd say until you tried." There was a longer silence after that, dragging on uncomfortably until Sora began to feel like he really might have overstepped his bounds.

The blonde stood up then, giving the other a direct look.

"Sorry." A beat. "You should go back in the room now. I'm going to patrol the downstairs."

He walked off without another word, leaving Sora to wonder both what the apology was for and what, exactly, it was he could have done differently.

XXX

The return to the ShinRa headquarters was rather slower than the trip had been to the mansion in the first place - though Sephiroth knew he needed to report to the administration, at the same time, he had no particular desire to be silkily fawned upon by his employers.

That, and he had some things to think about. The new captain was an enigma - a contradiction - and one he felt surprisingly interested in understanding. The general wasn't quite certain whether Cloud would be one of ShinRa's best assets or one of its liabilities, and that frustrated him more than he would ever begin to show.

The man was strangely divergent in his actions - one moment, he would be small, timid; shrinking beneath his general's notice, as so many men did. The next, he would stand straight and down one of the most dangerous men in the country without wavering in an instant. This demeanor that he could assume when the need struck was powerful, commanding but not threatening - it was a quiet charisma that would draw people to him and make him a leader of men, if he chose. But, his timidity seemed to imply the opposite - and that drawback made him very difficult to judge.

He arrived at the building in an hour, more or less, after wandering through the endless snow-frosted Chicago streets for as long as pleased him. The sight of the building rising in front of him was hardly welcome, but he walked forward nonetheless, immobile as ever, towards the front door - where he was suddenly and unexpectedly met by an impossibly spiky mass of dark hair with far too much energy for that time of day - or any time of day, for that matter.

"Hey, Seph! What are you doing back here so quick?" came Zack's always enthusiastic voice, bright eyes locked on Sephiroth's own as he stopped running, then skidded to a halt to the side of the general.

"…Might I ask just what has you so excited?" Sephiroth asked distantly, raising a delicate eyebrow. His thoughts hadn't quite come to a close yet

"Aw, nothing. Just playing a game of tag with some of the cadets," he responded with a cheeky grin that said he was probably terrorizing his subordinates again.

Sephiroth sometimes wondered what had possessed the higher-ups to make Zack Fair a Captain, though he hadn't said anything. He never would, even though at the moment he was definitely questioning their wisdom.

"Did the cadets agree to play with you before you initiated the game?" was the General's next question, though he was fairly sure that he already knew the answer.

"'Course not," the captain responded with a laugh. "So I took one of their pocket watches. It does them good to get some exercise every so often."

"…By chasing their superior officer around." He didn't let any of his amusement bleed into his voice, but the disbelieving tone was clear enough.

"Yes, of course," Zack shot back with a grin. "What better way?"

Sephiroth chose not to respond to that, chiefly because he could name any number of ways but he was sure that the captain wouldn't listen. Attentively heeding his superiors' suggestions had never been one of the man's strong points. Suddenly, the captain straightened like he'd just gotten an idea - Sephiroth wasn't entirely sure whether he ought to be worried or not, so he settled for impassively dismissive, which was a contradiction that the general pulled off remarkably well.

"Anyway, bypassing the question of what the hell you're doing here, exactly," Zack continued, "I had something I wanted to bring up with you," he informed the other with an attempt to be casual that failed quite excellently. "I wanted to ask you what you thought of the kid. Haven't had a chance to talk to you since that first mission together."

The question had hardly been the one Sephiroth expected, though it wasn't strange enough to throw the General off-guard. He had known that the captain had some kind of fondness for the newest captain, and should have been anticipating some kind of query in that field - but given the train of his earlier thoughts, it took him just long enough to come up with an answer for Zack's sharp eye to notice the pause.

"Strife is performing admirably," the general responded, having realized that heading off the smaller man's whims quickly was by far the wisest option. "I… reserve final judgment for another time," he finished, hoping that he would be allowed to leave after that statement but knowing he wouldn't be.

"Ah, yeah," Zack responded after a moment, with a knowing smile and a nod that Sephiroth did not like. The man was far too quick with respect to the thoughts of the people around him for his own good. "The kid can be confusing, can't he?"

"I didn't say that."

"Not out loud, maybe," was the other man's amused reply. "But it's obvious enough. You just don't get him, do you? You don't like it when you can't classify people neatly right when you meet them," the soldier stated, words delivered with a certainty that was vaguely unsettling. The general _had_ hoped that the other man didn't understand him so well, and watched distantly as those hopes crumbled like a cliff-wall into the sea.

"You can't figure him out. You're frustrated," Zack concluded, expression one of complete victory. "I would be too, if I was as incompetent with people as you are."

That statement hit him like a lance - growing up the isolated, motherless child of a scientist and then joining the military as soon as they'd have him hadn't exactly left much room to learn the subtleties of human behavior.

"You overstep your bounds," the General shot back, voice deepening in warning though his face didn't change at all.

"Look, Seph," Zack responded, taken aback and with a look of what was probably apology on his face. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just meant…" His tone changed in an instant, back to his earlier light teasing, as he laughed quickly, the sound interrupting the flow of his sentence. "You two are so fucking alike, d'you know that?"

Now it was Sephiroth's turn to be taken aback - that statement threw him completely off-balance for the first time in the conversation, though he masked it expertly. Such a statement was completely unwarranted - that he would be similar to _anyone_ was unthinkable, with his history and demeanor.

"I don't see how," came his reply, subtly caustic.

"You both get all _prickly_ when you're offended. You both get offended by the same things. He's just as clueless with people as you are, too," Zack replied with a grin, crossing his arms and letting his weight shift back. "You're both hopeless. You were seriously made for each other, jesus."

That was the second time in one conversation that the other man had thrown Sephiroth off-balance - though he wasn't precisely sure what the captain had meant by the last part. Violently taking the general out of his comfort level was getting to be enough of a routine that he should be used to it by now. He hadn't ever been described as "prickly" before.

"…I don't believe I take your meaning," he intoned, eying the other man's bright grin warily.

"You were made for each other. You know," Zack continued suggestively, like he actually expected the other man to know. He was sorely mistaken.

"I believe not." Sephiroth's annoyance was growing with every word - the conversation was growing tiresome and frustrating. His mind suddenly flashed onto the captain's earlier comment that he didn't like things he didn't understand - and the thought invaded that maybe, his discomfort with the conversation was due more to the fact that he didn't understand it than to any inherent flaw. As soon as he recognized it, however, he pushed it quickly to the back of his mind.

"Well," the other man laughed, "It means that you and Cloud are similar in more ways than just having _really_ nice asses - he does, by the way - so you should start looking. You'd be good for each other."

Finally, he began to see where that was going.

"…I hope you're not implying anything."

Zack gave a snort at that, though Sephiroth couldn't see what it was he'd said exactly that was so amusing.

"I'm not _implying_ anything," the man drawled, "I'm telling you - relationships exist. Sex is not only the domain of people who're trying to fuck your title and your power. You can't live alone forever; or anyway, I won't let you. We both already know you swing that way, so you should think about it some." And with that, Zack turned and walked into the ShinRa corporation's building, leaving Sephiroth to his thoughts.

The general realized then with no shortage of annoyance that, after this conversation, he likely wouldn't be able to help thinking about it. Watching Zack's back disappear behind the heavy wooden door, he wondered sullenly just how the conversation had taken that particular turn.

He thought to himself that people were _completely _indecipherable, and resolved not to waste any more time trying - though he knew that with Captain Zack Fair around, it was a futile endeavor.

So, it was with a heavy sigh of resignation laced with amusement that he finally entered the building, walking forward to speak to his superiors as several flustered cadets ran by him with strangled apologies, after the back of their captain.

He _really_ didn't know why he put up with that man.

XXX

XXX

A long chapter - a lot of basic development and not a lot of action, but necessary.. Thank you all for reading - comment if you liked?

I love you. You all are so fantastic.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Fuck_, was Axel's first thought upon exiting the room in which a thoroughly bewildered Roxas still remained. _We're all going to fucking die_. The thought didn't leave him even after that, as he went about his sweep of the mansion with that thought forefront in the back of his mind. One step after another, his feet moved without the permission of his mind, surroundings almost surreal as he slid past them, unnoticing.

It was a bit fatalistic, maybe, but close enough to reality to unsettle - the fact was that for the first time in his life, not only did he have a weak point, but he didn't have his head entirely in the game. Half of his mind was still back in the kids' room, sitting on the bed with Roxas and waiting for something tangible, something more _concrete_ to happen.

The other half of his mind was admonishing the part that really just wanted to walk back in that bedroom and give the little blonde a good ravishing - because that didn't make them any safer. Every minute he spent with Roxas was a moment of advantage Zexion _might_ have on them. And that was not acceptable.

Besides, if they lived, there would be plenty of time afterwards.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the redhead recognized that he was completely and utterly besotted in a way that he hadn't even thought was possible before. He knew that it was the worst kind of liability, but he couldn't bring himself to get the fuck away - because he was a selfish guy at heart, and the idea of having to live the rest of his life without ever seeing Roxas again was more than just unappealing.

The assassin shook his head in disbelief as he strode down the hallway, having returned in confusion to the place where the object of his thought still remained. His gaze was vague and unfocused until, suddenly, it centered in on a head of blonde hair as it came into view behind a corner, on the far well. It took a few seconds, but everything was thrown into stark clarity by that sight, like all of his thoughts came together finally. Everything else was forgotten then, morbid, dizzying thoughts put away until such time as they had another outlet. For then, Axel had only one purpose.

"Cloud," he began with a false pleasantness that he knew the soldier could see through, though he didn't care. "How are ya? How are things going with the ShinRa?" He said that in the same way that someone else might say "dog vomit" - he had never had much respect for any corporation, and ShinRa had a worse reputation than the rest of that lot put together.

The blonde gave him a deadpan look - he was good at not showing what he was thinking. Years of practice, it could only be assumed.

"One of us at least should be with them," Cloud said, ignoring the other's questions as he gave a twist of his head, in the direction of the open door through which Sora was currently walking towards his brother.

Yes, of course, Axel knew that - they shouldn't be left alone, ever - but he didn't want Roxas hearing what he had to say just then.

"So you never did tell me why you were here," the redhead began, avoiding the other's statement quite as obviously as the blonde had avoided the assassin's. They were looking at each other, and words were coming out of their mouths, but there was no communication happening.

"That's because you didn't ask," the blonde said. Quite the effective shut-down, Axel noted, though he squirmed around it like he did most things.

"Well, I'm asking now."

"Why?" The blonde's words sounded suspicious - damn. He had better get to the point pretty quickly.

"Because I want to know?" Axel stated, then paused after a moment, gaze falling to the ground. "Ah, ok, fine. Look, there's kind of a reason I want to know. I want to know if I can trust you or not." The redhead's eyes gleamed, though his head was at just such an angle that the other man couldn't see it - which was, of course, the intention.

The first card was in play - make yourself sound like you're the trustworthy one. Start the conversation out on higher ground than the other. Make him try to compromise with _you_, instead of the other way around.

Tonelessly, Cloud responded: "I'm not here for your purposes. I'm here because I'm ordered to be." So trust me or don't." The man certainly had a talent for avoiding the actual issue. This had been useful when Axel had needed to use the blonde's place for a temporary headquarters, but it was much less tolerable now that he needed the soldier to rise to the bait. Carefully, he loaded another worm onto the hook and cast it out, as delicately as he knew how.

"My point was," Axel continued, gaze sharp with focus, "I need to know if you're going to stay or not. No matter what happens." He let that last part drag on, not so much that it sounded deliberate, but enough. The redhead was extremely good at walking fine lines, and this was no different. The look Cloud gave him then was measured, searching - and the assassin gave his best blank face, walls up with little effort.

"No matter what happens," the blonde began, tone careful and probing - he was tasting the bait. Excellent. "What do you expect to happen?"

"Nothing, nothing," the redhead responded dismissively. "It's not a problem now. Just in case." The lies were warm on his tongue, comfortable - moving through this familiar area was easy, especially after the unknown terrain he'd been trying to traverse that morning. If there was one thing Axel did not do well, it was being open. It was possibly the only thing in the world that would make him uncomfortable.

Cloud's expression became even more suspicious, though only someone used to reading expressions would have been able to tell. This was, of course, perfect for Axel's plan - he was going to make the blonde ask, make him search for it.

All of this trouble was quite necessary, because just volunteering the information that Axel was about to give would make the soldier suspicious; the redhead wasn't known for his generosity with information. When he told something to someone, he did it for a purpose. So, he was purposefully pretending to hide it - ironically because it would make the information seem less suspicious. That way, it might seem more like he was telling the truth - and Axel needed the blonde to believe him.

"You're not telling me something," came Cloud's response.

"There's nothing not to tell," the assassin lied.

"Bullshit." There was an ominous pause, during which the two men avidly avoided looking at each other. The blonde did that - stared at the floor - whenever he was about to start a confrontation: right before he hit that no-nonsense wall after which _nobody_ fucked with him. "So are you going to tell me what it is that could happen, or not."

"…It wouldn't be a good idea," Axel intoned, waving a hand in some kind of vague emphatic gesture. He stood straighter then, and the two men looked each other in the eye for a moment, tense, until the redhead let out a breath in pretended defeat.

"Alright, if you must know." A pause, carefully chosen for maximum effect. "Look… Cloud," he muttered, using the man's name for the first time in - well, a long time. "I think that the guy we're chasing - now, don't get any ideas, but -"

Another silence, this time longer and more dreadful.

"This guy, Zexion - he killed Aerith."

The look on the blonde's face was exactly as he planned, and it was all Axel could do to keep the lethal look of victory off of his face.

XXX

There was a long, frozen, hideous silence after Axel's words, echoing down the length of the hallway like they had no right to do. For Cloud, everything else went blank, like darkness encroaching on the sides of his vision as everything focused on that one moment, those words.

"What did you say?" he asked - but his words sounded distant even in his own head, like they belonged to someone else.

"Aerith's _murderer_," Axel responded, and Cloud noted distantly that he spat the word with a lurid hate that was astonishing, even for him, "is the guy who's been attacking us. But I thought…" His words drifted off there, as if he wasn't quite sure what to say - something about that struck the soldier as odd: Axel _always_ knew what to say - but he picked them back up again in moments, and the feeling was gone.

"I guess it's better that you heard it from me," he continued, giving an unreadable smile. "Just don' do anything stupid, right?" He gave a short laugh then, back to the persona that Cloud knew well. "Don' get -" The redhead's words faded out here, painted over by images of blood and ice, snow on those lips and the delicate, fine-boned wrists as they passed lifelessly across the ground -

_I thought that maybe there weren't enough flowers -_

Emerald eyes dulled, stagnant, blanketed in a film of death. The days afterwards - interminable, painful, only living because, because -

" -don't give a damn if you live or die; so I guess it's really your business - but having your help around here is pretty damn useful." The words faded back into the soldier's hearing, though it hardly mattered. Cloud had entirely stopped listening to the other man now, taking a hesitant step forward, then back, as if his feet weren't really controlled by his mind but acting under their own mandate. They wanted to move, to run forward until they'd found this man - _until I've killed this man_ - and they were trying, though they didn't know where to begin.

His entire body felt somewhat like that - halfway between remaining where he was; the logical, rational thing to do, and walking straight out the door until he'd watched his sword pierce the throat of the man who'd killed Aerith, the _bastard_ who'd been cold-hearted enough to stab her through the heart and leave her corpse to freeze in a gutter. He was frozen there, between the relative peace he'd managed to achieve since her death, and the anger, the _fury_ that was beginning to boil, to _seethe_ in his gut almost like a living creature.

It wanted blood. And he knew, somehow, that he was about to let the creature out of its chains.

"Where can I find this man?" he finally asked, breath coming short.

"Whoa, back down, Spike," came Axel's response, and he looked maybe a little bit frightened - if Axel was capable of fright. "I'm not about to let you go out and face this guy by yourself. We're going to wait 'till he comes to us, and _you_ are going to guard the kids while someone else -"

Cloud stopped listening then, and it was perfect timing - because Sephiroth swept into the entry hall below them, from the direction of the servants' doorway, like a ready-made distraction.

"Excuse me," he said curtly, interrupting what was probably one of Axel's long tirades to walk, stride, wander _away_, mind anywhere but on the present.

XXX

With Demyx safely tucked away in a new apartment on the south side, Zexion felt comfortable enough with his lover's safety to continue on with his planning, though "comfortable" was of course a relative term. Only one thing had to go wrong before the assassin would come home to a bloody corpse instead of a vibrant human being. So, the obvious solution - the only solution - was to kill the rogue as quickly as was humanly possible.

So, sitting down at the timeworn table in his own new apartment, he cast around silently for an idea, something - anything, really - with which he could begin. The chief problem with frontal assault was that the police would find out, and would be unnecessarily bothersome - also, assassins of any high caliber specialized in subtlety, not necessarily strength, though the rogue evidently had both.

The other obvious option, however, the subtle approach, would have to contend with the rogue's mind and planning capabilities - and the man had already proven that his prowess in that regard was extraordinary. He would not be easy to take down by either of those approaches - so, the obvious answer, as it appeared to Zexion in that moment, was to lure him out.

He would be moving strongholds soon, in all likelihood, and the first step would be causing him to think that his stronghold was unsafe. Even better would be causing an ally to turn traitor - he had few enough of those, in all likelihood, and could not defend from all angles at once.

This would be easier than it seemed, because even this rogue, incredible as he may have been, still had to eat - and therefore someone had to leave the stronghold at some point. He would then either turn that person, or he would kill them - either way reducing the man's defenses. If they would turn traitor, then he would poison them, from the inside.

If they did not, then they would be lost. If he continued that, slowly - a siege of sorts: preventing them from eating or contacting the outside world, and carefully wearing down their defenses and their morale - then eventually he would fall.

Because this man, even considering all he had been able to do, was still not a god.

XXX

It was quite clear, even to Sephiroth's limited social understanding, that he had interrupted something when he swept up the stairs to the balcony where Cloud and his acquaintance, the redhead, stood together. Though standing might not have been the best description - the blonde had clearly been walking away from the other, face pulled tight with - something. There was a strung tension in the air, humming quietly between the two men - and Sephiroth ignored it with the practiced ease of a general, giving a nod to his subordinate in acknowledgement.

Zack's earlier words hadn't bothered him overly much, and he was hardly dwelling on them, but he could hardly help but remember a flicker of the conversation before he caught it and subsequently repressed it. There could have been no conceivable reason to take the man seriously.

"Captain," Sephiroth began, eyes flickering from Cloud to the other, "There is some business I believe we need to discuss. ShinRa business." The unspoken implication being that the General preferred the redhead, this Axel, gone during the discussion.

"Oh?" asked the redhead before the soldier could respond, green eyes sharp with interest - evidently he was determined to irritate the people he was working with. "What sort of information?" Cloud turned around again to face them then, but the look on his face was just as tense and distant as it had been before. The look in his eyes was almost frighteningly absent, and Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder silently what had rattled him so badly. He did not seem to be a man easily shaken.

"None that is any of your concern," the General cut back dismissively in response to Axel's words, barely even sparing a glance for the man he was talking to. "Your presence is not needed."

"If you want," the man responded, giving an expressive shrug. "But it seems like it'd be in your _best interests_-" these last words were mocking, like he was mimicking the general's pattern of speech "-to let your allies know just what in hell is going on. I thought that was something even a ShinRa like you would be able to figure out - but I guess I thought too highly of you. Remind me not to make that mistake again." The grin that he gave them was hardly pleasant, nor particularly happy - it betrayed a more animal sensibility, a leonine amusement.

Sephiroth did not trust that smile.

But it was true that the two of them would have to work together, as even ShinRa's General did not have the power to dismiss someone else's hireling - so, he took a fortifying breath and turned his steady gaze back on his associate.

"Very well." He was not in the mood to argue it any more - and it really mattered none whether the other man knew or not. "Captain Zack Fair has offered to take a shift at this assignment, and the administration is in agreement. Beginning tomorrow, the three of us will rotate, in shifts of days." As much as Rufus ShinRa wanted to punish the Organization for defying them, his father was a more cowardly man and did not like his General being out on assignment unless it could not be helped.

Cloud tensed at that, blue eyes narrowing.

"Respectfully, sir," he began, tentatively. A pause - that was interesting. It took determination for a subordinate to ask their superior officer for something. "I would like to request that Zack take my place for tomorrow." The redhead tensed then, looking like he was about to say something, but Sephiroth cut him off.

"And your reason?" he asked, watching the other man intently.

"I want to go after the man who is attacking us, personally," he said - and then, his whole . demeanor changed. He lifted his chin slightly, and his gaze met the General's, and Sephiroth noticed that he wore the same smooth, determined look that he had borne when facing off with the leader of the Organization. It was not the look of someone who was going to give in, no matter what his superior's answer was.

"Don't be an idiot, Strife." An ugly pause - he wasn't about to lose a man who promised to be a challenge, if not possibly one of the army's greatest assets, to some misguided heroism. "Don't be a martyr. If you wait, he will be killed."

The general heard Axel mutter something from where he was standing, and cross his arms as he glared at some undefined spot in between the blonde and himself, but didn't bother to listen hard enough to hear what it was.

"I want to kill him myself, and I want to kill him now," Cloud stated tonelessly, rubbing the handle of the sword on his back absently in what was probably a restless habit.

"I can't agree to that."

"Damn right you can't," the redhead interjected, throwing an arm out as if his emotion just couldn't be constrained to stillness. "That's why I didn't want to tell you -"

"Back out, Axel," the blonde cut in coolly, barely sparing a glance towards the other man. "This isn't any of your business." That was interesting - what was it that the man hadn't wanted to say? The general's thoughts were interrupted when Cloud turned back towards Sephiroth, purpose clear in every line of his face. "General, Sir. I _will_ kill this man." The unspoken undertone was that he would do it with - or without - Sephiroth's permission, and was willing to face the consequences.

It was a thought-provoking situation - though his choice of mission was perhaps not the wisest, the ability to question a superior officer's decisions was a necessary one for a leader of men. Strife was veering dangerously close to insubordination - but if he was willing and able, the destruction of one of the Organization's men quickly and quietly would be an excellent option. Striking before the other's blow comes is dangerous when one doesn't know what resources their opponent has, but such risks could also lead to the largest rewards.

He stood there, silent, for a moment, then another - calculating the probability of failure, the probability of success - until he finally took a steady breath and replied.

"Then you have my permission to do so, Captain Strife. See to it that this man provides you with whatever information you require." The words were met with an almost visible release of tension from the line of Cloud's shoulders, as he looked like he finally took the breath he'd been waiting for the whole conversation. There was some muttered conversation from the direction of their observer, but that hardly mattered - if he wanted to keep his allies, he would do as told.

For just a moment, the look of gratitude that flashed onto Cloud's face painted over the indefinable lingering emotion from his earlier encounter, and the sight - of the adoration and the thankfulness, poorly coating a much uglier emotion - disturbed him, strangely. But it was gone again almost as quickly, leaving behind a restless, too-jaded soldier who wouldn't meet his general's eyes.

Sephiroth couldn't help but wonder which person Cloud would be when all the layers were pulled away. But then again, perhaps it was the mystery of the thing that made it fascinating - and he would never want the layers gone.

XXX

Fortunately enough, one of the things that power taught to a person was how to control an unhappy crowd. Marluxia found that he appreciated this ability more than he ever expected to, when the riots began to break out in the hallways of the Organization's headquarters.

He had been sitting in his office quite comfortably when he received the news, not long before the rioting, eying the intruding messenger unhappily as said boy - he couldn't have been more than fifteen - shifted unhappily under his leader's critical gaze. Neither had said anything as the younger had entered, though likely for very different reasons - and now the silence was growing oppressive. Larxene, who had been occupying a corner of the office more to annoy him than anything else, stopped playing with her knives in favor of watching the messenger with a barely-hidden amusement.

"Uh, sir…" he began, voice catching. There was another beat. With each successive moment, Marluxia's level of frustration was growing - he did not deal well with idiots.

"Yes," he growled, voice rumbling in an unspoken threat that he was sure the younger didn't understand. "What is it."

"News, sir. It seems that -" the boy shifted his weight here, again "- there have been some deaths among the ranks. Last night, I mean."

This wasn't a particularly interesting piece of information - men died weekly in their organization. Their job did, after all, deal with death - and it stood to reason that sometimes death was dealt in return.

"So?" The question was why the boy had interrupted him for something so trivial. "They're dead. Take them off our contact lists, standard procedure." Even someone so green should know what to do when a member died - it happened enough.

"No, sir…" came the tentative response. "They were killed, purposefully, and the Union Pacific Rail Corporation is taking responsibility. They sent us a notice, after the deaths - they're taking a stand with the corporation that hired the Rogue. Tarrant Steel. They summoned three of our members, like they were going to hire them, then killed them." The boy sounded like he couldn't decide whether he was more angry or terrified - hopefully the anger would win over, or else he wouldn't make much of an assassin.

Marluxia examined the situation slowly in the cold, detached way he had mastered, eyes never wavering an inch from the messenger's face. It took a moment, then another, and he heard Larxene shift in her corner as she anticipated his response.

The implications were clear enough - these people were challenging the authority of the Organization with their own might. Before the Rogue had even been a problem for a week, already they were losing their clout in the city. People had begun to see that the Organization was _not_ invincible, and they had begun - whether out of pretended morals or out of the more likely pragmatism - to stand up against it.

That must, at all costs, be stopped.

"Summon the guards," Marluxia finally said, eyes glinting with a hard light. "I want them to be ready to quell any… discomfort, that the other members may have upon hearing this information. I want them ready _now_." The last word was said with a subtle, threatening emphasis that was not quite subtle enough for the messenger to have missed it. With that, the boy turned and fairly ran out of the meeting room, two sets of harsh eyes on him.

It was probably less than ten minutes before his first angry subordinates came rushing to his door, seething around it in waves. Larxene watched between the strokes of her whetstone on a knife, distant amusement showing through every twitch of her face, as they asked Marluxia precisely what was the purpose of belonging to an Organization at all if it just made them better targets.

The man's answer to that was to subdue them, with as much force as was necessary, and keep them there under threat from his guards. This worked well enough until he no longer had enough guards to keep these subordinates behaving as they needed to - and that was when he decided to hold an official meeting, explaining what had happened and why. More importantly, it would detail what they were going to do about it - the details of which he wasn't quite clear on, but the concept of which was strong.

The idea, chiefly, was to regain order and his own power in the Organization - but, hidden behind this obvious goal was another, quieter and yet more penetrating. The Organization itself was hardly good enough for him - through subterfuge and intelligence, Marluxia hoped to overthrow Xemnas's syndicate, and place himself as the leader. But so far, as had been proven by the rioting, he had failed at creating a loyal, solid organization out of the assassins who made up what amounted to their guild. They still saw it as a loose coalition rather than a group to which they owed alliegance, which was a barrier Marluxia still was trying to find a way across.

His first break came, though he didn't known it at the time, sometime during the chaos; between his announcement of the general meeting and the arrival of even more angry masses. When he was off-guard, focused on something else, Larxene sidled up behind him and - serpentine voice low and melodious - whispered to him.

"I have a proposition," she murmured, and Marluxia sat up even straighter - her tone did not bode well. "Do you need some assistance with the stupid fucks outside your door?" The noise had been growing louder, and Marluxia could only hope that they would have the presence of mind to listen to his rhetoric. Of course, he wouldn't admit his tentative uncertainties to the woman by him, continuing to read through another paper blankly.

"No," he responded, and she knew it was a lie more because she wasn't an idiot than because he failed in his craft. "Please make your point or make yourself absent. You'll only get in the way if you can't make use of yourself."

"That's precisely my proposition," she responded silkily, voice like slivers of glass on his skin. "I want to make myself useful." She paused then, and Marluxia could barely see her twirl a knife expertly out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll help you out now, with this -" she gave an indicative nod of her head towards the door, through which loud noises were still audible "- but there is a catch." Of course there was a catch - he was hardly naïve enough to believe that there wasn't. "I want to be second in command to you. I'll help you take down Xemnas to get a slice of his syndicate if you want, or whatever - I'll be loyal unless you fuck up. And, I don't want to have to answer to fucking _anybody_ for what I do." Her eyes gleamed when she said that, in such a way that made Marluxia think that the last sentence might have been the most important part of her statement.

And that fit with his idea of her - she was ruthless, a vicious woman with a sadistic streak; but she had no capability for long-term planning whatsoever, and no desire to. Everything she did was spur of the moment, and it was all with the intent of immediate benefit. She didn't want power as much as she wanted to remove the stranglehold of her superiors over her life and actions - and she knew that becoming second to Marluxia was about as close as she would ever get without having to deal with responsibilities that she probably couldn't handle.

If Marluxia had ever had to think of the sort of person he'd promote to the heretofore nonexistent position of second-in-command, she would be it - her lack of planning ability led to a lack of ambition, and so he wouldn't always have to watch his back. Also, almost as important as her lack of ambition - she was Marluxia's perfect complement, willing to get her hands dirty like the man hated to do, and without any desire to interchange his orders for her own idea. She would fight him, to be sure - but that made her a challenge, and she wouldn't have been interesting if she wasn't.

"Very well then," he responded after a moment, two, three - and he felt her stiffen behind him, like she was waiting for Marluxia's catch. It wouldn't be too much trouble to give her one. "But if you ever displease me, I _will_ kill you. Please don't have any illusions about that.

He could feel her grin grow even behind him, sadistic excitement cutting across the back of his neck with an almost physical presence.

"I'll make sure you don't regret it," she said slowly, and the suggestion was that she would certainly toe the line. But that was more or less alright.

XXX

The grin on Axel's face once he was alone was more than just triumphant, it was exultant, reveling in his handiwork as he watched Sephiroth's retreating back from his position by the railing of the landing-area. Cloud had gone somewhere else, which was all the better, because suppressing his expression of complete victory any longer was almost too much effort. Because the blonde had been completely, totally taken in by his lie - Zexion had never had anything to do with Aerith at all, much less with her untimely death.

Besides any of that, if the assassin had actually known who had killed Aerith - assuming that it wasn't completely contrary to his interests, of course - he would have killed them in exchange. There were few enough people in the world that he liked, and she had been one of them - he'd been sorry to hear of hear death. Sorry for Cloud a bit, too.

Not sorry enough to not use that information against the other man. Not sorry enough not to manipulate him, shamelessly, and to take advantage of the blonde's weaknesses for his own purpose.

Because not only was the soldier simply useful - which was enough of a reason for him to be fucked over - but his assistance would also help to keep Roxas alive, which justified anything. Any fucking thing in the whole damn world, so that Roxas would stay alive, one more day. So Axel could hear his laugh, _make _him laugh, and make everything alright for him.

If that took betrayal - well, that was alright by him.

There was a creak, then, interrupting his thoughts - and it was familiar; the sound of feet on old hardwood, likely. Sweeping forward, he pushed the door to Roxas's room open, only to find Sora behind it, his little mouth open almost as wide as his eyes in something like astonishment.

Fuck. He'd heard it. Everything about the way he stood said that he heard it, and then - Roxas watched critically from his position on the bed, like he was waiting for an explanation. For something.

"Who was it who died?" the brunette asked, tone deliberate with the effort of keeping itself from trembling. "Why was Cloud so upset?"

Axel did _not _feel like fielding questions from a fifteen-year-old, much less one like Sora. The kid wasn't too bad, but when he had the choice between the younger and the older, Roxas won by a lifetime. There weren't many people in the world who could face down the General Sephiroth - even with a hangover and a pissy, scowling attitude problem - without blinking.

Yeah. He'd much rather deal with Roxas.

"Go ask him yourself, kid. It's nothing that I could tell you about," he lied, and Roxas knew it, stiffening across the room. "I just know the basics. If you wanna know, Spike's the one to ask."

The brunette nodded then, like he understood - though clearly he didn't.

"I'm going to go find him, then. Thank you," he said to Axel, then gave a nod to his older brother, who nodded in return. "Be safe, Roxas, ok?" he continued, and the redhead wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not. He settled for the latter as the brunette brushed past him with an apologetic expression - apologizing for what, he wondered? - and disappearing through the door.

"Now _I _want to know what's going on, Axel," Roxas stated, looking like he was feeling doubly better from his earlier, hung-over state. The way he said the assassin's name made the redhead's stomach warm, but he didn't comment. "Sora hates to believe the worst in anybody, but you're lying to him. You know more about this than anybody, probably."

Axel tensed a little - he didn't like to think it, but he probably was going to have to keep the hell away from anybody he needed to use while Roxas was around; because apparently, being with the little blonde had this terrible tendency to make him tell the truth. He opened his mouth to try and come up with some lie, but the words caught in his throat, like he could feel the blonde's disapproval.

Maybe that had something to do with the fact that he felt comfortable with Roxas, or with the fact that he didn't feel judged - it wasn't so much that the blonde wanted him to be open, as that Axel didn't feel like he had to protect himself around the boy. Maybe that was what made his mouth open and spill out truth - and that alone was extraordinary, because nothing and nobody else had ever been able to make him do that.

"Yeah, I guess," the redhead responded at length, shutting the door just to ensure that they wouldn't be overheard. "You're a sharp kid, you know that?"

A shrug.

"I've been told so before. Or maybe it's just that you're not a very good liar."

That statement hit him so suddenly and was such a surprise that the redhead actually bust out laughing, leaving the younger looking slightly bewildered - not that Axel minded. He continued that way for at least a minute, until his breaths were coming in gasps and his knuckles were white from gripping the bedpost by which he had been convulsing.

"Roxas," he finally begin, taking deep breaths to calm himself down, "I don't think I've ever heard anything funnier in my life. Lying's my job, kiddo, and I'm _really_ fuckin' good at it." There was a pause. "Maybe I'm just not good at lying to you." Let the blonde make of that what he would.

There was a tense silence for a moment, as Roxas digested this new information, and probably was making quite a bit of it - though he probably wasn't comprehending exactly what it actually meant. He soon, apparently, decided to forego asking about it in favor of following the earlier thread of conversation.

"In any case," he began easily, pretending nothing had confused him at all, "what's the deal with the soldier? He's going to go off and kill the guy who's trying to k ill us?" There was a pause, during which the blonde's gaze flickered between the other man and the floor. "Won't that get him killed?" He probably didn't want his guard to bite it any more than Axel himself did - but there were further plans.

"Probably not," came Axel's honest answer. Unless something went terribly wrong, Cloud could take Zexion one-handed in a straight-up fight - which is what the redhead was hoping it would be. If all went well, there would be no problem. "Cloud Strife has always been a tough son of a bitch to kill." He realized with a wince that he was, again, giving himself away - but he didn't move or otherwise indicate his misstep, half-hoping that the blonde wouldn't notice.

"So you've known him for a while?" he asked, picking up what the assassin hadn't said, though he might have known it earlier, during the scene in the entryway, if he hadn't had a world-class hangover. "Did you know the person who was killed also?" The question that followed the last was more suspicious than questioning. "How, exactly, do you know that this guy was the murderer?" Roxas was probably suspicious for the wrong reasons, but Axel was nonetheless impressed by his powers of perception.

"Yeah, I knew Aerith," he responded, trying to speak slowly so he didn't fuck himself over even worse. "She was… Well, I liked her. And to be honest," he continued, words spilling out of his mouth with enthusiasm as the boy's expression of curiosity grew , "I don't know who killed her." He realized with consternation as the words left his mouth that he was baring all of his fucking secrets - he _never_ did that. Shit.

Ah well. He'd already done the worst he could do by now, what was the harm in a little bit more truth? Anyway, he'd probably just fail again if he tried to lie.

"If I'd known," he continued, running a hand through his burning-red hair, "I would have killed the fucker myself." If it hadn't been too inconvenient, of course, or counter to his goals - but he successfully neglected to mention that part.

Roxas blinked as if in response, gears in his head accelerating visibly.

"So… You were lying then." There was another pause - Axel didn't feel that it needed a response. "Why?" the blonde finally asked, as if it weren't obvious. With anyone else, the redhead might have shot out some kind of disparaging remark, but the moment he opened his mouth, he felt himself change his mind without any kind of permission.

"Because. I want Cloud to fight him. Because I want Cloud to kill him, _now_, with no mess - before he has the time to lay complicated plans. Because he's dangerous - anything could go wrong, and I am going to keep you fucking _safe._" His words were vehement, and unnecessarily honest - the other, recognizing this, reacted with widened eyes and a sharp intake of breath. Their gazes met for only a moment before Roxas's slid away.

"So you're manipulating - _using -_ an old friend -"

"Not exactly a friend," Axel interjected.

"- in order to keep me slightly safer?" he asked, looking bewildered. Like he wasn't asking the question he really wanted to ask. The redhead knew what it would be, and he didn't have an answer for it himself - Why me, he'd ask in that tenuous baritone. What did I do to get this kind of devotion from you? It was just as well, because Axel wouldn't have been able to respond.

Instead, the blonde asked; "Are you crazy?"

That was almost as funny as the "You're not a very good liar" comment, though the redhead didn't break down into laughter this time.

"'Course I am," he responded with a paper-sharp grin. "What in fuck were you expecting?"

XXX

XXX

Merry Christmas! If any of you are reading today.

Sorry for the terribly late update. I will be gone for two weeks, so the next update won't be soon either.

Also, sorry for two chapters in a row without much happening. Next chapter everything should start to heat up and finally get complicated. No, it hasn't been complicated up until this point. Just wait.

Thank you all so much for reading.

Please comment if you liked? It would be the best Christmas gift ever.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The sweeping darkness of ShinRa's underground laboratories was too familiar to Vincent Valentine's senses, electrified as they were by adrenaline and the tiniest irrepressible breath of what, in another man, might have been fear. His motion - smooth and unhurried, like water - was silent even to his own extraordinary hearing, and his crimson eyes had adjusted enough that he could maneuver in the pale dark with a feline ease.

The darkness itself was the first of many defenses placed around the corporation's most important work - the scientists who carried it out simply brought lights with them, to find their way to their workplaces - but, the labyrinthine walls, invisible in the darkness, were glass. Any intruder who dared to carry a light would be seen and taken care of with little effort on the part of the guards. The walls themselves were the second defense - they formed a winding, taunting maze that seemed to have no end, and would trap a man for days. There he would remain, until such a time as ShinRa's operatives felt the need to remove him - if they ever did.

It was a seemingly foolproof defense - but escaped laboratory specimens had never been a part of their carefully-laid plans. The corporation was overconfident, certain of its own superiority, and the maze remained unchanged from how it had been during the time Vincent had spent there. He would never forget the pattern of turns and steps that had been ground into him as he was walked through it, day after day, during the years of his imprisonment.

His look, also, was of a man long captive - his skin was pale and delicate, missing the sun's delicate touch, and everything about him seemed hollow. The delicacy of his appearance and manner had the side-effect of making him look ephemeral, insubstantial - like he might blow away at any excuse. His form was grounded only, it seemed, by the large red overcoat which hung across his shoulders and cascaded downwards until it touched the floor. This fact explained the dirt on the hem and its general tattered appearance, but not the bullet-holes elsewhere in his cloak which lent him a dangerous air. This coat was the only bit of color in his entire wardrobe, save for a headband of the same hue which held his unkempt length of black hair out of his face.

He walked with a purpose, and his coat fluttered behind him with the force of his movement, as every step took him closer to his goal.

It had been less than a week since Vincent had accomplished his main goal - Hojo, his former tormentor, was dead by his bullet. Appropriately, the weapon by which he had met his demise was ShinRa's design and make, wielded by ShinRa's test subject, its mistake.

He knew that Hojo's death had sent the corporation into something of an uproar, but that was not his chief concern - though he had no love for ShinRa itself, his enemies were the scientists who had taken away his humanity. Hojo was the first - he would pay for what he did to Lucrecia, and his subordinates would be removed from the world so that they could never carry on his hideous work.

Another five minutes of silence and he had made it to the first door, large but perhaps not as barricaded as it might have been without the maze as a primary layer of protection. Within moments, he had slammed the lock off of the door with the hilt of his gun, then opened it soundlessly.

He was greeted by a room full of armed guards who, although they were taken by surprise with Vincent's entry, took only slightly more time than Vincent himself did to shoot. He took one man down with a bullet to the forehead, but one of the others let off a shot to his shoulder that only registered when it had made contact. The pale man leapt backwards once, twice, and was out through the - thankfully bulletproof - maze before any of the men could make a move.

That he escaped with only a bullet to the shoulder was probably, he reflected later, an act of fate.

XXX

The sound of gunfire first attracted Yuffie to the ShinRa building one evening; partially, because any fight worth having was worth taking advantage of if she could - robbing dead bodies was morally questionable but good money nonetheless - and partially because there was little else to do on that particular evening, other than freeze. Once she got there, watching the scene from her perch on the roof of a two-story building next door, the sight of the ShinRa bastards shooting at what looked like either a flying cloak or a really, _really_ fast son of a bitch was more than enough to keep her interest.

The scene was an interesting one to say the least - five or six men in the ShinRa grunt uniform faced off from inside a steel doorway against their opponent, who every so often solidified into an androgynous form with a red cloak and long, black hair.

Ah - so he was a fast son of a bitch, then.

The next thing that she noticed about him was that he was apparently injured - even from her distance, she could tell that he had blood on his shoulder and was limping with every step on his left leg. Despite that, he was clearly skilled, though his delicate beauty seemed out of place in the destruction caused by their bullets. A faint, splattered path of blood ran from where he stood - approximately where he stood; he was far too fast for even the thief to quite tell where he was - up through the door. Obviously, the fight had been going on for a while, and the red-clad intruder was losing.

It really shouldn't have been any of her business, but Yuffie had no love of the ShinRa bastards - living on the streets will do that to a person. They were in the business of killing thieves who were trying to make a honest living on their shipments, which was more than a little bit annoying to the girl. They were also in the habit of killing anyone who got in their way, which was probably more so.

And besides, she'd always liked rooting for the underdog.

So, with skill developed through years of stealing and fighting for her life, she jumped, catlike, down a story, to where a small balcony gave her the perfect vantage point. Her throwing knives were in her gloved hand in an instant, and within half of another they were in the throats of two men in the doorway. It wasn't many, but it was enough - in the chaos of seeing their two companions fall from an unknown threat, the cloaked man took advantage of their distraction and took the liberty of lodging a bullet in a third's skull. Without further ado, he proceeded to turn away, and ran away as fast as his considerable skill would allow.

Taking his cue, the girl also made her exit, dissolving into the deep evening shadows on the rail and shimmying up the wall back to the roof, where she ruled. Even ShinRa couldn't find her on the roofs of Chicago. Secure in that knowledge, she took off in the direction that the red-cloaked man had disappeared, hoping to find him and see exactly what the fight had been about. It would be a shame to save a guy's life and never learn his name.

From the rooftops, the man was easily found - she discovered him kneeling behind a shipment of crates from a local carpenter's shop. He looked like he was trying to staunch the blood flow from his shoulder with only limited success - though to his credit, the look he turned on her as she jumped down off of the roof into a graceful crouch was calm and unsurprised.

"Hiya," she greeted with a casual wave, careful to keep her voice low so the fact that she was disguised as a male wasn't apparent, then squatted down next to him for a better look at the injury. "You're quite the fighter, ain'tcha?" she asked then, putting a hand out to feel the exact nature of the bullet wound. Luckily, it wasn't terrible - it had skimmed the man's shoulder rather than embedding itself in the flesh. The wound on his leg, however, looked slightly more serious, though it bled less - she'd focus on the bleeding one for the moment.

With one quick motion, she removed her outermost jacket and began to tie it around the bullet-wound, as he watched, curiously.

"You are, then, my unlooked-for assistance?" he asked, voice dry and cool, rumbling into a velvet baritone that somehow gave more substance to his presence. It was nevertheless a voice that matched his face - beautiful, smooth, and perhaps a bit distant.

"Yep!" she agreed, pretending that it wasn't immensely colder without her jacket, "I figured that if you were in a fight with ShinRa, you must have been one of the good guys," she returned with a wry smile. "The name's Yuffie," she continued, finishing the makeshift bandage with a swift knot and then extending her bloodied hand in greeting, which he nonetheless took. "Yuffie Kisaragi. And you are?"

"Vincent Valentine. And… Thank you, for your assistance. Your distraction was… timely," he noted, clearly a master of understatement. She met the man's cautious gaze with a cheery grin, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to melt a bit. He stood then, testing out the binding on his shoulder with a quick motion, then another.

"Yeah, you might not have made it." She stood up also, putting her hands on her hips and inspecting her handiwork. Her next words burst out of her mouth like she hadn't quite thought them through. "So, you gonna need some help here, or…?" she asked suddenly as the inspiration hit her. "I know someplace you can stay for a while. While you get better, I mean. If you want." She suddenly realized how awkward it must have seemed for her to ask a question like that, but she remained silent for his answer.

Vincent gave her another appraising look, turning just enough so that she was directly in his view, cape sweeping along the traces of snow as he moved. For a second, she was afraid that his piercing gaze had seen through her disguise - but he didn't comment, although the feeling never quite passed.

"You would do that," he began, voice slow and measured, "for a man you've never met?" he asked, and she could hear the undertone of exhaustion - and probably pain - that laced his cautious words.

"Well, we've met now," she pointed out brightly. "But you'd better make a decision one way or another before the ShinRa elites decide that they don't want to let us go so easily. We can talk later, if you want," she offered, putting a hand out to steady the man - he was probably a little weak from blood loss - and he, unlike most men, gracefully accepted the hand without throwing a fit or insisting that he was perfectly alright. Nothing needed to be said, and he accepted what was freely given.

Their gaze met then, and he nodded; it was an unlikely gesture of trust, given in a world that would never accept it. With her hand on his back, they both turned and slowly, they walked down the narrow street.

XXX

Sora's tentative venture out into the hallway where Cloud rested, sitting with his back against the wall, was not, perhaps, as influenced by naiveté as his brother and their guard might have thought. He wasn't quite taken in by Axel's lie, it was true - but, on thinking about it, he realized that not only was the blonde soldier more likely to give him relatively honest information, but more relevant information. Also, if the conversation he'd heard was true, then Cloud was probably going to need somebody to talk to.

"Hey," the brunette began cheerily, giving the blonde his customary grin as he walked towards the other man. "Whatcha thinkin' about?" The captain's head shot up with that, disturbed from whatever thoughts had plagued him. And considering… well, considering everything, they might have been some pretty bad ones.

"Nothing," came Cloud's response, deep and curt - the brunette could instantly tell that the soldier was preoccupied with something, closed off again from where he'd been earlier.

"It doesn't look like nothing. You look distracted," Sora observed, noting that the blonde's gaze had slipped to the floor. He sat down beside the other man then, so they wouldn't have to stare at each other and so that Cloud wouldn't feel like he was being interrogated - superior height could do that, even if it was completely unintentional. "So… Who was she? This Aerith," he asked quietly, partially so that he could figure out what was going on, but mostly because he had a kind heart and he really did want to know. He wanted to help, if he could.

The blonde stiffened further as soon as the words hit his ears, and his surprised gaze shot up off of the floor and onto Sora's now sober countenance.

"How do you know about Aerith?" came the vaguely bewildered question.

"I heard you and Axel talking through the door." A pause. "I didn't mean to - it just happened that way." His expression was apologetic, and he turned a bit so that their eyes could meet better. Communication always happened better when you could see the other person. That was why telephones would never succeed.

"I… see," Cloud murmured, arms folding around one bent knee. "She was my girlfriend," he answered, and the way she said it made it clear that she had been so much more to him than that. Pleased that he was responding at all, Sora didn't interrupt as the other man cleared his throat to continue. "She was killed. A year ago." Any happiness that the brunette might have felt at Cloud opening up was rapidly shot down, as he was reminded of that terrible fact.

"I'm sorry…" he returned, not putting a hand on the older man out of respect though he would very much have liked to. It must have been so difficult for the man - he wasn't comfortable enough with people to have anyone help him; or at least anyone he'd trust to help him. He would have had to deal with Aerith's death basically alone. "So you're going to go kill the guy who killed her," he noted rather than asked, not quite sure where he stood morally on that issue. On the one hand, revenge was never a good motive - on the other, the guy who killed her probably didn't need to be terrorizing the streets any longer.

Cloud's short nod was enough affirmation - and though Sora wasn't particularly happy with the blonde walling himself in, he didn't figure that he would be too talkative either in that situation.

"Isn't there some way other way to do this? Couldn't you call in the police, get him arrested?"

The soldier gave a curt shake of his head, though the expression on his face was more of surprise than anything.

"The police won't help," came his response, and he didn't give any more explanation than that - but Sora knew when the man said it that these people didn't quite live in the same world as he did. They weren't the sorts of people who had problems that other people could solve - they fought their own battles, every day, and no-one else could either assist them or stop them.

"Then," he began, with such an air of surety that Cloud looked up from the carpet again, "if you really feel like you have to, I guess you should go ahead - but don't get hung up on this. Don't focus on it, ok? You're still here, and I'm sure that Aerith wouldn't want you to pay attention to her so much that you forget to live." Here he halted briefly, waiting for the soldier's response - when it didn't come, he continued on.

"Cloud, Aerith is dead. And she was very important to you. But she would have wanted you to move on with your life."

Cloud's response was almost inaudible: "She was… a light. She was the sort of person that, just being around her made you feel like you were a better person."

"And you'll find that again, I'm sure," Sora returned confidently, giving the other man a reassuring smile as he stood, and stretched a bit. "For now, do what you have to do - but don't let it consume you. Ok?"

The man didn't speak, only giving a short nod in reply - but Sora could feel the blonde's eyes on him as he walked away, burning into his back. He figured that meant he had left some sort of impression - he only hoped it was enough.

XXX

The night had been, by all accounts, uneventful - and the morning was no different; at least until Zack arrived, bearing his buster sword on his back and an irrepressible grin. Cloud was somewhat taken by surprise at this early arrival - Zack Fair was hardly a morning person - so he hadn't yet quite engineered his escape when his friend burst through the door of the servants' entryway.

"Hey, Spike!" he greeted with a wave as he took the stairs three steps at a time like he was a cadet fresh into the military academy, landing on the top with a flourish simply because he could.

"Hey." The blonde didn't quite face the other man as he responded, instead crossing his arms and watching the ground, feigning disinterest.

"So, how've things been going? Any more attacks?" the older of the two asked, apparently not noticing the blonde's reticence because he followed up the greeting with a slap on the back that might have been - if possible - even harder than usual. He proceeded to examine their surroundings, gaze apparently casual - but Cloud knew better. Zack never let anything important get past his observation.

"It's been fine," the smaller responded, pushing himself off of the wall upon which he'd been leaning into a proper standing position. "You're here to take over for me, then."

Despite the circumstances around it, the younger was extremely glad that the other had showed up - there was nothing better that they could have done for the kids than give them both Zack and Sephiroth as bodyguards. Although Axel was less than trustworthy, he also seemed to really be working his ass off to keep those two safe - which was out of character but a welcome change. And the man was a force to be reckoned with, whether he was on your side or not.

Something inside of him was kind of relieved at that; because although Cloud hadn't had much of an opportunity - nor a desire - to speak to Roxas, but there was something about Sora that he liked almost instantly, possibly somewhat against his will. The brunette was congenial to a fault and a bit naïve, but he genuinely liked people and had their best interests in mind. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind - but somewhere, he realized that this guarding job had begun to take on deeper implications.

"Yep," Zack responded to his earlier statement, breaking through Cloud's thoughts. "What, you're not trying to get rid of me or something, are you?" he asked with a laugh, but he had that look in his eye - that clear, piercing look - that said he knew, or at least had a feeling, that the other was about to do something. He was good with people like that.

"No," the younger responded, words sounding shorter than he had probably been intending. He paused and glanced down to the entryway, where Sephiroth swept majestically into view, and took that moment to thank whatever god was listening that Axel was in the bedroom with the two children. The redhead hadn't wanted him to go after this guy - probably so that the children could get the best possible protection - and the blonde soldier hardly wanted Axel to give something away, so Zack could try to talk him out of it.

To be entirely honest, he wasn't sure quite what Zack would do. But he didn't want to be talked out of it - or joined, which was the other option. He _would _kill that man, and he would do it alone.

"Sephiroth is here now to show you around. I'm going to go back to my apartment, before ShinRa wants me." And with that, he began to take the stairs himself, passing Sephiroth with barely a nod and leaving a rather bewildered Zack behind him.

He regretted that perhaps a bit - the other man had never been anything but kind to him - but it had to be done. That man, that Zexion, would die for what he'd done.

XXX

The wind was a little bit on the edge of frosty as Zexion made his way to Demyx's new apartment, although the sun was doing its best to shine through the light haze of clouds and smoke that covered the morning sky. He pulled his coat around him more tightly as he stepped against the motion of the breeze, thoughts preoccupied with what he would begin as soon as he was done visiting his lover. Several acquaintances had volunteered to guard the mansion with Zexion as soon as they arrived, which would likely be sometime that afternoon - and with them, he would begin to bring an end to the Rogue's reign. One by one, they would take out the assistants inside, until they reached the rogue himself.

The abrupt appearance of a door in his line of vision shocked him out of his thoughts - his feet had apparently carried him to the entry of Demyx's apartment without his express permission or knowledge. He brought a hand up to knock on the hard wood - it really was a nice place; he was glad he had been able to find someplace like it - but before his knuckles could meet with the material, the door opened swiftly to reveal his lover, grinning brightly, on the other side.

"Zexy! I knew you'd come to visit," he began, blue eyes shining even in the pale light as he stepped out of the way so that his lover could walk through. "How are you?" The "I'm so glad you're safe" was unspoken.

"I'm fine, thank you," he said, taking off his leather gloves as he walked inside and placing them on a small wooden table in the tiled entryway. "Are you enjoying your new apartment?"

"It's wonderful. It would be better if you were in it," he informed the other with a trace of dejection that Zexion didn't particularly care for. He didn't like to see the blonde upset, and would go to great lengths to avoid it - though he also went to great lengths to prevent anyone from finding out. In his line of work, having weaknesses could be fatal.

"But -"

"I know, I know," Demyx responded, smile returning slowly. "I know why you can't be. But that doesn't mean I don't wish you were." He moved forward a few steps and enveloped the assassin in a warm embrace, forehead resting on the other man's shoulder. "I can't wait until this business is over with," he murmured, then paused. "I've been writing a new song, you know. You haven't gotten to hear it yet."

"Then I will hear it now," Zexion returned, running a hand across the other's back. "Do you have time?" he asked, though he knew that the answer would always be yes.

"Of course I do," Demyx responded, visibly brightening at the suggestion. "I always have time for you. You should know that." He did, but sometimes - sometimes he had to force himself to remember. Having the blonde for a lover was so surreal that occasionally he had to shake himself, just to remind himself that it was real.

They moved over towards the piano in the back corner of the room wordlessly, and Demyx sat down in a graceful motion on the bench, arching his fingers delicately over the keys. It took only a moment of thought before he began, hands dancing across the ivory with an inexplicable beauty, coaxing out a melody.

"It's called Dearly Beloved," he murmured, eyes never moving from the motion of his hands. The song was slow and beautiful, if a bit sad, and the assassin's grip tightened on the other's shoulder.

Zexion had never had much of an ear for music, though he knew the theory well enough - but there was something entrancing about the dovelike fluttering of those tiny hands across the instrument. Without thinking about it, he sat down on the bench behind his lover, and wrapped his arms around the younger man tightly. Burying his face in the other's neck, he listened to the music, and forgot the outside world.

XXX

Upon nearing his apartment, having hoped not only to confuse any watchers but to acquire several handguns he kept in the building, Cloud was taken by quite by surprise as he took a few steps towards the entry. His door, although it showed no signs of having been forced, nevertheless barely dampened the presence of sound in the small room beyond it.

He took out his key and opened it silently, hand on the hilt of his sword and prepared to kill - but the scene that greeted him was even more unexpected. Yuffie Kisaragi sat on his bed, happily chattering at a dark haired, red-cloaked stranger.

"Yuffie," he began slowly, trying not to sound too incredulous, "What are you doing here?" The question of "How did you get in?" was more or less unnecessary - the girl in question had world-class lock picking skills.

"Oh, Cloudster!" she greeted, jumping off the bed with far too much energy. "You're back early. I thought you were out on mission. Not, of course," she added hastily, putting two hands up in her own defense, "that I didn't want you here. I just thought I might've had time to tidy things up a little before you showed up."

Looking around the room, that appeared to be quite necessary - he could only assume, not seeing any visible wounds on Yuffie's body, that the bloodstained bandages that littered what seemed like every available space must have come from his cloaked visitor.

"And who is this?"

"Vincent," the man said, finally speaking for himself as he stood, pale red eyes piercing. "I apologize. I was not aware that I had been brought to someone else's living space," he said, with a look towards Yuffie that might have almost been accusing. She responded with a cheery - if sheepish - grin and a shrug, then sat back down, sprawling across the bed like she lived there.

"I helped him out," she informed the blonde, tugging absently on a stray lock of hair. "He was injured, so I figured he'd need a place to stay while he healed up. Is that a problem?" she asked, suddenly unsure. "I mean, you don't use it much."

While the fact was vaguely irritating, it was true - he wouldn't be back at his apartment again, it was likely, until the end of the guarding mission.

"…If you need it," he responded, eying Vincent cautiously. "I was just going to pick up some guns and then leave." He moved forward to a locked drawer, into which he promptly inserted his key and removed two handguns in leather holsters.

"I am surprised," Vincent murmured as the other moved, halfway to himself, "that you would allow an unknown man and a young girl to occupy your living space together." The look on his face was genuinely curious - as if he had come from a world where propriety was of more importance.

"Well," Cloud began in response before he stopped in shock, realizing what the other man had said - he'd seen through Yuffie's disguise - her male dress, male demeanor - with apparently no effort whatsoever. The soldier glanced towards the girl, who looked no less shocked than he himself did, and waited for her to respond.

"Wait, you know I'm a girl?" she asked after a moment, brown eyes huge as she sat up on the bed, moving into a crosslegged position.

Vincent blinked then, slowly.

"Should I not have?" he asked, looking from one of them to the other uncertainly. It took a few seconds, but without any prelude, Yuffie's laughter suddenly bubbled up from her throat, growing in intensity until she couldn't stop it.

Cloud didn't say goodbye, turning to leave out the door as Yuffie convulsed in laughter beside an utterly bewildered Vincent, glad to know that, despite everything, there was still some happiness in the world.

XXX

As he watched Sephiroth climb the sweeping staircase, Zack couldn't help but be plagued by the feeling that something simply wasn't right. Cloud had been acting extremely strange, and had left with barely a word - he had half a mind to just run and track the kid down right then and there, and figure out what the hell was going on. Instead, he settled for asking Sephiroth - in just a moment.

"Hey, Seph!" he began, two-fingered wave comfortable in its familiarity. "Whatcha been up to?"

The elegantly raised eyebrow that the general gave in return was enough of an answer. The smaller of the two crossed his arms then and shifted restlessly from one foot to another - he hadn't seen any action in weeks, and it was beginning to get to him.

"Anyway," he continued, even though the other man hadn't yet spoken. "You should show me around the place. Introduce me to the shrimps we're guarding, and all that."

"They are already being guarded," came Sephiroth's response, practical as always.

"Oh come on, that's not the point," Zack returned, taking a few steps forward in the direction he hoped led to the kids' rooms. "I wanna meet them. A little help here?"

With an amused, long-suffering look that he reserved only for Zack, he pointed the other man in the direction of the door, not ten steps down the hall from where he'd been standing. Giving a nod of thanks, he walked forward towards the room, flanked by his reluctant friend.

Behind the mahogany door were not two, but three figures, strangely enough - a blonde and a brunette who looked so similar they had to have been the brothers, and then another man. He appeared tall and lanky, even though he was sitting, and the look on his face wasn't particularly amicable - but the most interesting thing about him was a shock of bright crimson hair that sat messily on his head.

The man stood up almost immediately upon Zack and Sephiroth's entry, giving a grin that was wide enough to split his face in half, but it seemed somehow not honest, even though the man hadn't said anything yet.

"Oy," the man began before Zack had a chance to say anything at all. "I'm Axel. Nice to meetcha. I'm guarding the kids too, but not right now - I'm taking a break. So just sit tight and don't let anybody killed 'till I get back," he drawled with a confidence that was probably not overstated.

And before the soldier even had a moment to give his own name in return, Axel was out of the room in a flash of red. Zack turned in his wake, arms crossed and a frown on his face.

"Well, how about that," he muttered, more for dramatic effect than because he was really upset. "He left without letting me say hello."

"He does that," came a voice from the blonde's side of the bed - his expression was more exasperated than really annoyed, which the soldier figured meant that this Axel probably wasn't all bad. "The name's Roxas," he said, though he didn't extend his hand for a handshake.

"And I'm Sora," interjected the brunette. "You're Cloud's replacement, aren't you?" he asked, blue eyes more cheerful than probably they should have been.

"Yep! And his friend," he added, though it was completely unnecessary, before turning to Sephiroth. "On the topic of Cloud, what's up with him? He was acting really weird when I saw him earlier."

Sephiroth's expression was thoughtful for a moment, then troubled - but his alabaster features smoothed out again almost instantly, and he gave an expressive shrug.

"I don't know. He has left to attempt to kill the man who is hunting this family."

This news was sort of surprising - Cloud could kind of be an idiot, and was a little bit of a martyr, but he generally wasn't _that_ stupid. And one would think that Sephiroth would have had the good sense to stop him.

"You really let him do something that stupid?" Zack asked, crossing his arms. "I can't believe that. I thought you were smarter than that." There weren't very many people who could get away with insulting the General, but Zack was proud to be one of those people.

"He wouldn't accept my orders, Captain Fair," Sephiroth intoned, using his title as a way of reinstating rank between them. Dirty bastard. "Are you questioning my judgment?"

"Yes, I'm fucking questioning your judgment -"

"To be fair," the brunette's voice interrupted mildly, like he wasn't trying to be rude, "I think he would have gone and done it whether the General had said yes or no."

That stopped both of the older men in mid-motion - and after a moment, Zack turned suddenly, but not unkindly, towards the younger blonde.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Well…" Sora - that was the kid's name - continued, shifting his weight a bit uncomfortably. "I don't know if he wants me to say this or not, but it seems important enough that you guys ought to know." He paused then, and the nervous feeling in Zack's gut grew. "He said he was going to go avenge someone's death. Her name was Aerith, I think."

That name hit him hard, choking his throat and solidifying the tenuous feeling in his stomach into a genuine knot. It had been a long time ago, but he had loved her once - and he knew that Cloud had loved her too, in his own careful sort of way. It was no wonder that the younger soldier would have been willing to defy orders to go kill this man.

"You're sure of the name?" he asked, voice halting, and he felt Sephiroth shift behind him.

"Yeah," the brunette responded, looking from one to the other. "He looked pretty upset. I talked to him, and at least… I think he's not going to go let himself die. He has too much to live for, you know?"

That statement made the soldier look at Sora with far more respect than before - for such a young boy, he had an uncanny understanding of how people's minds worked. He might have been worth getting to know. That was the exact sort of thing Zack would have said to the blonde - if it had been anyone else other than Aerith's murderer. He was about two seconds from going and helping Cloud to fucking _pulverize_ the man, as it was.

"Did you… know this girl?" Sephiroth asked from behind him, apparently sensing his friend's distress. Zack turned around then, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet, and what he knew was inside it.

"I did. She was… Well, I loved her once, and so did Cloud." He could see Sephiroth stiffen at that, uncomfortable as he was with normal human emotions and possibly because… The soldier pushed that thought away for the moment as he fished the wallet out of his pocket, and opened it up to pull out the timeworn photo which rested inside. Aerith, in the sunshine of the country, surrounded by her flowers - with a smile that could melt anyone and a gentle demeanor that could be seen even through the imperfect medium.

Not quite knowing why - perhaps just to show what they had lost, perhaps to further justify Cloud's actions - he took it and handed it to Sephiroth, who took it delicately, like he wasn't sure if it was about to break. But upon unfolding the picture, a sudden change washed over him, and the man's icy demeanor turned tense, angry, almost hostile.

Out of instinct, Zack reached out and took the photo back, but the damage had already been done.

XXX

If there was one thing that Sephiroth had always prided himself on, more than his inhuman strength or speed, more than his senses - it was his memory. His perception. He almost never forgot a face, a name, a place - it was one of his greatest assets. That day, as he gazed on the photograph Zack had handed to him, was the first that he had ever regretted that memory.

Because the face, even shown in black and white in a photograph that had never been of a particularly high quality, was familiar to him - he had seen that face once before. He remembered it, far too well, as his mind began piecing together the information lightning-quick.

_It had been a simple mission - to protect the location of the transaction while ShinRa troops were there, and until the materials had been exchanged. He hadn't quite known what the nature of the deal was, but he didn't particularly care - whatever the corporation decided to trade, be it drugs, information, or illegal weapons, was their own business._

_But this one in particular was evidently extremely important - because not only was a platoon of soldiers there, but the General himself, and they had been ordered to kill any witnesses._

_The two parties had only barely met when _she_ entered - face widening in shock at what she was seeing as she took one step back, then another._

_It had never occurred to him to disobey orders - they simply were. They were the price to be paid for his position, and he never challenged them. So, in one snakelike strike, he unsheathed the Masamune and re-sheathed it through her stomach, pretending that his conscience was unmoved by the little plea that escaped her mouth, followed unceremoniously by a bubble of blood as she coughed, the motion making his sword tremble in his hand. He allowed her to slide off then, and gave a nod to his subordinates to dispose of her still-warm body._

Back in the present, he felt his fist clench, and his stomach constrict in a way he was completely unused to - the thought of what he had done, the thought of that betrayal, was almost too much to bear.

Another thought struck him then, as he tried not to think about his own actions. As he tried not to think about how he had changed the younger soldier's life irreversibly, for the worse.

"Axel was lying," he informed the other two with a hint of bitterness in his voice, and he barely registered how Roxas jumped at that. "This man, the man who is hunting us, was not her murderer."

"Sephiroth," Zack began, with a tone of what might have been fear in his voice, "how do you know this?" His voice trembled with every word, which made the general's gut twinge again - but he had gotten used to that , used to the fear, over the course of his life, and should get used to it again. In one stroke, he had managed to sever all of the human connections he had in the world. Masterful.

"I know this," he responded, because he somehow felt like he should, "because I killed her myself."

XXX

By the time that Cloud's target had exited the apartment building in which Axel had said he would be, it was twelve o'clock and almost dark - the barely-there covering of haze from earlier had coalesced into a deep blanket of shadowy storm-clouds over the city that made the assassin almost invisible, except for when he passed into the halo of a streetlight in front of the apartment building.

He made his first strike before the other man was prepared, buster sword slicing downwards through the cold and towards the patch of slush on which the other man had been standing only seconds earlier. He had reacted quickly, too quickly, and the soldier swung his sword around in a full circle to meet with where he hoped the other man had moved. He was not disappointed, as his sword grazed flesh for just an instant before he heard a knife's cutting sound as it flew through the air towards his neck.

He was barely able to move enough that the knife didn't cut him - but that impeded the motion of his sword, and he was forced to swing it up instead, missing the other man completely. As quickly as he could manage, he drew the revolver out from its holster and pulled the trigger - it missed. In the dark, a sword of the Buster's girth was much more accurate than a gun.

"I'm not certain to what I owe the pleasure of this acquaintance," the man's voice spoke in the dark, interrupting the soldier's thoughts as another knife whizzed by, "but I shall end it very quickly."

"All the better for me," Cloud murmured as he ran towards the source of the noise, barely grunting as a knife took him in the shoulder and he heaved the buster sword up and into where he hoped his opponent's stomach was. He was gratified by the same sensation of flesh, again - but deeper this time. The assassin's response was another knife, which the soldier couldn't dodge without moving his sword - so it embedded itself in his stomach as well, causing a cascade of red down his dark clothing.

A single twist of his sword was all it took for Cloud to be rewarded by the sound of a gasp on the other end, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness well enough that he could make out the heaving outlines of the other man's face before it, abruptly, disappeared. It took perhaps longer than it should have for the soldier to realize, suddenly, that he was alone - the other man had run away, leaving only a faint trail behind him.

Thankful for the light covering of snow, Cloud took a deep breath, and began to run after the other man, blood mingling with his opponent's to soak in the snow.

XXX

The attacker's first move had been barely audible, but it was enough - Zexion had barely made it out of the way in time. He should have, in that moment, been completely and totally focused - he knew that. But the knowledge kept bursting through his mind, that they were in front of Demyx's apartment. They knew where Demyx's fucking apartment was.

One strike to the stomach, then another - and the assassin made the decision to retreat; straight-up battle was not his forte, and he hadn't had the time to draw and load his pistol in the confusion, as his opponent apparently had. For a half-second, he was torn between leaving the area completely - get them the fuck away from his place - and staying. Although he knew that whoever this blonde swordsman was, he was probably after the assassin and not after his lover, he was loathe to take chances.

But his logic soon prevailed, and he took off into the night, and was rewarded to hear the swordsman following in his wake. Zexion was, clearly, the faster - and he lost the other man within minutes, despite the dripping wound that disturbed his every motion.

After about five minutes, he felt safe enough to stop, panting for breath and clutching at his stomach. Detached, his mind went about the business of remembering where the nearest doctor was, as he took one step, then another - more painful this time - as he tried to move forward.

Without warning, there was an arm around his middle and a knife to his throat, and he could feel hot breath steaming on the shell of his ear.

"Hey," came a voice from behind him - too familiar. He knew that voice. "I guess this game is up, huh, Zexion?"

"Axel," he murmured, in recognition rather than response - because he knew that, whatever he said, he was going to die. He had known it - should have been more insistent, should have kept Demyx _away_ from that man.

His last thought as the knife bit across his throat, was: _I only wish I had more time_… But just what he was referring to was unclear, because the thought was never finished - he fell, lifeless, to the ground, as Axel's grin shone like the devil's own in the darkness.

XXX

XXX

Two things: first of all, if you can't stand the hovering possibility of a sad ending for any given plotline and the story hasn't scared you away yet - this might be a good time to make some headway on a quick exit. It's not going to get any happier from here on out. This is not to say that it will all be depressing - hopefully I can work in more fluffiness here and there, to balance it out. But still.

Secondly, this is where I start to really need feedback from you guys.

This story started as an experiment of sorts, for me - to see if I could write a _real_ anti-hero, a protagonist who has no right to be. But, I don't want to make him completely unlikable - I want you, as readers, to still care about him, even as he's doing these terrible things. This is where your feedback comes in. I want to know if I've succeeded, if I've failed terribly, and what I would have to do for Axel to keep your sympathy.

Thank you so much for reading, for those who still are - each and every one of you brightens my day when you comment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The wind had picked up enough since the battle that Cloud was finding it increasingly difficult to run - but every so often, he could see enough of an outline of a footprint in the patches of snow that he could see his path clearly, and he knew he was gaining. That thought, the thought that he knew he could win, was enough to keep him going. It was clear, if he read the signs - the other man was slowing down - the droplets of blood were growing more and more frequent, filling the spaces between the cracks in the pavement slowly as the soldier's feet pounded down, relentless.

But, all at once, something blocked the trail - a black shape in the middle of the road, and surrounding it a pool of blood, steaming in the cold. He knew immediately what it was - there was no mistaking the stench of death - but, still hoping that it wasn't true, he slowed to a walk and moved around to the front of the body.

He didn't quite know why the sight of the assassin's lifeless face bothered him so much - perhaps because he hadn't been the one to kill the man, or because the idea of revenge didn't sit well with him. He didn't like to think that it was because that face, bloodstained and peaceful, reminded him of Aerith's, on the night that he found her.

His face was completely motionless as he walked away, feet taking him reluctantly back in the direction of his apartment. For the first time in a long while, he had to suppress the urge to drink himself into oblivion; drink until he couldn't remember their faces, dead in the snow.

XXX

Zack could have sworn that his heart fucking _stopped_ upon hearing the words from Sephiroth's lips - except that he was still alive, mouth open as if he was about to say something, his eyes petrified in shock.

"…What?" he asked, barely able to recognize his own voice. "Sephiroth, you don't mean…"

"I do," he asserted, expression distant. "I killed her. I do not forget a face." There was a long, terrible silence, and the two friends watched each other - one gaze blank in shock, the other searching - because Zack couldn't come up with the coherency it would take to formulate a response.

"I was guarding a ShinRa transaction," he continued, "and was told to dispatch any witnesses. She walked in, and I killed her."

On the edge of his vision, he could see the two boys sitting and watching - but they both had the good sense to realize that it was not their place to interfere. He took a step back without entirely realizing it, almost tripping over the edge of the bed, and sat down breathlessly, trying to right his image of the world.

"You…" he said, and the sound couldn't decide whether it was accusing or disbelieving. "You didn't. You're lying." Aerith was - why would he kill her? It didn't make any sense.

"For what little the sentiment is worth, I am sorry," the man continued, voice quiet as his emerald eyes watched his friend with an expression that might have been akin to one of sorrow - the most human he had ever seen ShinRa's general look.

Those words, and that look, shot Zack back to the present - he had realized long ago that, as a soldier, he might have to do some terrible things for the greater good. He had joined ShinRa because Chicago's regular policing unit was completely ineffectual, and he wanted to help people, help clean up the streets - but he knew that mistakes would be made. Those mistakes were the price he would have to pay for the people he could help.

But none of that made the betrayal any easier to bear.

"I… think I need to be alone." He turned towards the doorway, then halfway back, as if he couldn't decide what he really wanted to do. Finally, he said, "Watch the kids for me. I'll come back in a bit," and stalked out the door.

Because the fact was that, while he knew he couldn't blame Sephiroth for his actions, he also knew that something in him wanted to. Though the memory of their first meeting welled in him - the man had been completely unable to judge or comprehend the emotions of others, and unwilling. Slowly, over time, he'd grown better - more understanding - but he was still ShinRa's General. He still followed orders to the letter.

Suddenly, the thought occurred to him - what if someone he'd killed in a drug-bust or a hostage situation had been innocent? An undercover cop, for instance? Maybe they had been, he'd never know - but what would Zack himself be able to do if confronted with this person's living family, and the accusation in their eyes?

The simple answer was that he didn't know.

XXX

As soon as Yuffie's laughter had died down, and Cloud was safely out of hearing distance, Vincent stood from where he had been sitting on the bed and turned to his rescuer.

"I was… unaware, that you were housing me in the lodgings of a ShinRa," he told her, deep voice reserved as ever. He hadn't yet decided whether that fact would be enough of a reason for him to leave or not - because the simple fact was that his own lodgings were hardly permanent, and the landlord less than trustworthy.

Yuffie shrugged like she wasn't sure how it mattered, smile still not entirely gone from her face.

"Cloud may be a ShinRa, but he's one of the good guys. He's a pushover and kinda sweet, if you can catch him off-guard," she told him with a small laugh, leaning back on the bed with her hands behind her head in a decidedly masculine way. "It's not a problem, is it? He's not gonna turn you in. You're a friend of mine."

She paused, as if waiting for him to respond with more than the simple shake of his head that he gave her - but he had very little to say, and so he said nothing.

"In any case," she continued without missing a beat, "we got so caught up in fixing you up that you never did tell me why it was that you were in a firefight with the ShinRa." Despite the nature of her half-query, she didn't appear suspicious or accusing at all - a benefit, he supposed, of her kind and open disposition. And despite everything that had happened to him, despite how he had been hurt, he still had no talent for lies or inclination to tell them.

"I was attempting to rid the world of some little bit of the evil in it," he responded, turning slightly so he could better avoid her gaze.

Her first response was a snort, which made the man turn back to her in surprise.

"Well, if _that _wasn't a tricky, ambiguous answer, then I've never heard one," she shot back, sitting up from her position on the bed. "How about we try something clear for me here, huh? I'm no good at riddles." He noted with amusement that she probably wouldn't be - a direct mind like hers was much less willing to put together his unclear answers to come up with what he meant to say.

"Ah, my apologies," he returned, barely-visible hint of a smile hidden behind his coat's high collar, then gone again in an instant. "Then I will speak plainly for you - I was attempting to remove the worst of ShinRa's scientific department from this world." He hoped simply that she, with her apparent own dislike of ShinRa, would not be frightened by this answer.

"An excellent goal if there ever was one," she responded amicably, putting his uncertainties to rest in her own brash manner. "So were you behind the assassination of the big guy not too long ago?" Yuffie asked with a quality to her voice that might have been one of admiration. She was, of course, referring to Hojo; and though the man had a tendency towards the paranoid and was not easy to kill, he was still overconfident - it was this trait which had allowed Vincent to kill the man.

"I was," he responded, though he never would have given her that information if she hadn't surmised as much on her own.

"Congratulations," she responded with that grin, white and flashing in the morning light. "Hojo was a bastard and deserved whatever was coming to him. With the sort of shit he did to Cloud…" she drifted off then, and the man realized then how much she must care for the man. "He must have done some pretty crazy shit to you too, to get you that mad at him." There was a silence for a moment, and she brightened as if she had just gotten an idea.

"You were a ShinRa once, too, weren't you?" she asked, voice smug. "I'd bet my life on it, the way you move. You were a Turk." Her observation truly was astute - only someone with much experience on the streets would have been able to make a judgment like that.

"I was," he replied, then paused, much less interested in discussing his own history than that of the ShinRa who owned the lodgings in which they were staying. "He is important to you, then," he stated rather than asked, because he wanted to judge the man - the actual nature of their relationship mattered very little.

"Cloudster? Like a kid brother who never could take care of himself, hell yeah. And the ShinRa isn't all bad, you know - right now he's off on a mission with the General -" Just hearing that name was enough to cause a twinge of pity in Vincent's throat; he had had the misfortune of being able to see Hojo's other victims on occasion, and none of the memories were pleasant. The worst, by far, involved a man with long silver hair and an ivory face - in the whispers the dark-haired man had managed to hear between his own screams, he had heard the man called The General. This man, this General, hadn't screamed - but the tortures devised for him were so much worse than those that even Vincent had been given, to test the limits of ShinRa's finest.

Yuffie's voice filtered back in through his thoughts within seconds, and he managed to focus in on them not long afterwards.

"- children didn't do anything, see, but their father took a stand against the Organization, and the whole family's being targeted for it. Cloud's there to make to sure the kids don't get killed in the crossfire," she informed him lightly, apparently for no other reason than because she felt like speaking to someone. It wasn't unpleasant at all - rather the opposite, as she apparently didn't mind it when he didn't respond.

"That is, indeed, a noble deed," he murmured in response, sitting down awkwardly on a nearby chair - it occurred to him that he might owe the man an apology, for judging without cause. Within seconds, however, Yuffie was chattering again, and he let her warm voice bubble over him - and eventually, quite against his will, fell asleep; succumbing once again to his wounds and growing exhaustion.

XXX

His couriers brought Marluxia the news almost immediately after it happened - Zexion was dead, in a street, and there were no witnesses to the killing, and no ideas as to who had committed the attack.

"And there was no-one watching him to ensure that this sort of thing didn't happen," he growled, frustrated at his organization's incompetence - but as a loose coalition of assassins, he knew that any assassins he had watched were likely to kill their tracker with no warning. They joined under the condition that the Organization was simply a means through which they could get better jobs, and avoid multiple people on the same man.

The man in front of him didn't cringe, to his credit - he had probably been in the Organization longer than a fortnight - but he did spout out his response more quickly than was strictly normal.

"Sir, you know that when we give jobs, we give them no backup -"

"We _know _that," Larxene hissed from behind him, and this time he did quiver a little. "Now give us something useful or get the fuck out of here." Though the woman was less lethal than Marluxia himself was, she had shown over the small period of time she had been second-in-command that she was _more_ than willing to take someone up on insubordination. Her version of "taking someone up," however, tended to involve carving their ribs for better access to the prime meat.

"I don't have any more information, sir -" she had insisted on "sir" and not "ma'am" upon ascending, for her own reasons "- except that the body is in the holding room downstairs, pending burial and notification of the next of kin."

"Zexion has no next of kin," came Marluxia's curt response. He had never given any indication of any, and he didn't care enough to make the effort for a search with the threat of the Rogue around the corner. "Burn the corpse."

The man nodded and was out the door in a flash, away from the seething presences at the front of the room, standing imposingly on the dais. With another breath, the woman turned to him, and - face serious for once - spoke.

"So, what do you want to do about this?" she asked, voice low and barely hiding an undercurrent of anger.

This was a more difficult question than he liked to admit - sending out another assassin to do the same job would have been tantamount to murder. Though he had no problem with that in a general sense, it was also idiocy; and that was something he could not stand. The only option, then, would be to remove the Rogue's status as a hit, refuse any outside hits on the man, and take it on as best as he could - himself.

"The Rogue is no longer a valid target," he informed her after a moment. "Instead, you and I will devote all of our energies to finding and killing this man."

The look she gave him then was pure fervor, eyes glistening with malice and a keen intent.

"Fuck yeah," she breathed, turning to face him properly. "This is the kind of job I've been waiting for. I'm going to make him _bleed_."

That was why he'd promoted her, of all people - that glistening malevolence, the willingness to accept his decisions as long as she was allowed to kill. And he was more than willing to let her.

Then, there was a creak from their door as it opened, and he vaguely heard the sound of heated voices from behind it. Within instants, it revealed a person pushing it outward, flanked by two rather flustered door-guards.

"Sir, we can't let you -"

"We'll see what your master has to say about that," he intoned with a voice full of amusement, but not the pleasant sort. That face was familiar. "In the meantime," he continued, giving each of them a lancing look in turn, "go lick your wounds somewhere the air isn't sullied by your presence - if, of course, there exists such a foul place."

The man's face was an imperfect outline of harsh beauty, enhanced rather than marred by the cross-shaped scar that adorned the bridge of his nose and the unnatural yellow tone of his eyes. His hair was white by nature rather than age, so perfect that it appeared almost blue under the electric lights, and it was this defining feature that finally jogged Marluxia's memory. His name was Saïx, and they had met once before - back before the Organization's leader had held that position, when he had performed a hit for Xemnas himself. The man was Xemnas's second, and a dangerous one - rumor had it that the cross-shaped scar on his face had been self-inflicted, during a fit of madness.

From what Marluxia himself had judged of the man, he seemed like he was only kept from the baseness of being a petty murderer by his sharp intelligence and quick tongue - if Xemnas hadn't found him early on, he would have simply been a killer; but they connected, somehow, and the elder had taught him better, subtler ways to hurt others.

"Saïx," the leader greeted after a moment, ignoring how Larxene instinctively stiffened behind him, "what brings you here? I wouldn't think that someone of such importance would be trifled with something like a petty hit."

"Excellent, then, that that's not what I'm after," the man responded coolly, giving a look around the room that was hardly approving. "My leader wants information," he informed the other, as if that explained everything - and irritatingly, it did. Xemnas got what he wanted, whether by coercion or outright force.

"About?" he replied, as amicably as he could - he was intelligent enough not to exude hostility towards such a powerful man - even if he wanted Larxene in that position, and himself above her.

"The Rogue," Saïx drawled, smooth voice full of derision. "Xemnas is interested in the Rogue."

A thousand things clicked in Marluxia's head all at once - as repugnant as working with that man would be, it could be to his advantage, if played correctly.

"From a collector's or hunter's standpoint," he asked out of a dry curiosity, though he had little hope that he would get a straight answer from the other man, if he got one at all.

"None of your concern," the man replied, and he could feel Larxene move for her knives. He put out a hand to stop her, subtly - there would be a time and a place for that, but not now. "I simply want the information on the Rogue, as you have it."

He smiled and stood, walking over to the other man with considerably less hostility than he felt - and as he smiled, fake and obsequious, he was reminded, again, of why he wanted Xemnas's position. Even if it was just once, he wanted the whole world to recoil from him in fright. Because that was power, raw and undiluted - and power was an addictive drug whose tendrils he would never escape from, and would never want to.

XXX

The Organization's headquarters was uncharacteristically quiet as Axel entered, likely because all of its occupants were gone to relieve stress in their own way - whoring or boozing, most likely, which were the occupations of choice for assassins who weren't busy killing someone. This probably meant that Zexion's body had been found - though that had been a part of his plan, he still would have to tread carefully.

"Oi," he greeted the first door-guard he found, looking rather distracted in his post, "so I wanna know, what's the deal here? Where is everybody?" he asked, giving a sweeping gesture to the empty hallways. The man shot to attention almost at once, and Axel gave a silent laugh.

"Well, everyone seems to be out on their own right now, sir. The news passed around quick," he muttered, like he still didn't want to believe it. Well, it was true - Zexion was dead, and there was nothing that talking quietly was going to do about it.

"What news?" the redhead asked blankly, as if he didn't already know.

"Well, sir, Zexion's body has been found. He's dead, sir," the guard informed the other, apparently stupid enough to think that Axel wouldn't surmise as much from the first sentence.

"Oh," he responded, dragging out the pause in between words uncomfortably. "I see." Another pause. "Where are they keeping the body?" he asked, partially because he was wondering if they'd brought it back. In part, maybe - but no. He wouldn't admit to that, even silently.

"In the holding room, sir. Back the way you came and to the left," he responded, and Axel gave him a smirk and a pat on the head, like an animal.

"Good boy," Axel returned condescendingly, smile feral, as he turned around and walked off, leaving the boy rather more shaken than he probably should have.

But walking towards the room where his rival and acquaintance's body lay, he felt the return of that pesky emotion from earlier - being around the kid was growing him a fucking conscience, it looked like, because suddenly thoughts of Demyx's reaction were plaguing him.

The assassin knew that the Organization no more knew of Zexion's connections to Demyx than they knew that he himself was the Rogue, so nobody would know to inform him of his lover's death - even if they cared enough to, which was unlikely. So, the kid was going to be left to wonder what had happened, if the man was alright - for years, he would tell himself that his lover wasn't dead, that everything would be alright. Every day would be harder, until he slowly realized that his lover would never come home.

For some reason he couldn't explain, something in him knew that he would have to bring the blonde the news. He was going to have to sit there while the blonde fucking cried or whatever, and hope Roxas never found out what he had done.

And that was strange enough - he had never cared before, except for in the sense of his self-protective instinct. The kid was doing weird things to him, and the strangest thing was that he didn't mind nearly as much as he should have, as much as he would have loved to walk straight up to Marluxia's room and do what had to be done.

As much as he would have loved to forget about the man he'd killed, he had this sense of what it would be like if someone killed Roxas - having met the boy, he wasn't sure if he could live without him. Demyx was stronger than he in that way, and he'd live - but the redhead couldn't allow himself to pretend nothing had happened.

He stepped in the door slowly, preparing himself for what he would see - and the other man's face was no different than Axel had imagined, no more dramatic or awe-inspiring - he was just dead, plain and simple. Someone had done him the honor of cleaning the wound at his throat, one of the people they hired for that sort of thing - and they hovered around the end of the table like flies, none of them quite sure what to do. Or at least, not sure if they wanted to do it.

"Hey," he said, and their attention turned towards him as he stepped forward again. "Don't mind me, I'm just paying my last respects."

"You're just in time," one of the men said, moving forward so that his long face was more visible. "We were just about to burn the body, as he has no next of kin to notify."

"Yeah, he does," he informed the others automatically, because he figured it didn't matter anymore. "I know him." A breath. "I knew Zexion, too," he continued after a moment, as the knowledge struck, deep in his gut, of what he would have to do. His penance, if he could be so dramatic. "D'you think that I could do the honors?" he asked soberly, eyes gliding from one man to the other.

"If you like," another man said, evidently relieved - Zexion had been respected in the Organization, and these guys probably didn't want to believe he was dead. Bunch of fucking pansies.

The redhead didn't wait another moment, because his body was acting for him by that point - he pulled the ever-present box of matches out from his pocket, and struck it reverently as another man poured gasoline on his immobile body.

He took only one more step forward, and the first flame licked at Zexion's sides, growing quickly to encompass his whole body - cleansing, purifying, as they ate at the remains of what had once been a man. A great man, yes, and powerful - but a mortal one nonetheless.

Axel didn't say anything as he watched the man crumble into ash, watching the flames intently. As much as that was his repentance, it was also his homage - to the man whom had fought and lost, a worthy rival and good to those he loved. So he stood as he watched the searing flames finish their work, sharply reminded of his own mortality as the last of the body burned away.

XXX

"He was… receptive?" Xemnas asked imperiously, seated on his pure-white throne - a massive testament to his own self-importance. The deep black of his clothing made for a striking contrast, as was of course the intent, and the dark tone of his skin stood out boldly from both.

Their topic was, of course, Marluxia - his organization was powerful, and although he was power-hungry, it was for the time being necessary to work with the man.

"He was," Saïx responded, taking a step up the dais like no-one else was allowed to do. Xemnas was not kind and forgiving enough to allow anyone to see that action, either - he and he alone indisputably held the power. "He gave us the information that we requested, and more - I rather suspect that he wants us to join with him in the hunt for the Rogue."

This was also as Xemnas had thought - but such a venturing of one's own opinion would have been the cause for a severe reprimand in anyone else. Saïx was the only exception to that rule.

"I agree," he responded - he had highly suspected for a while that Marluxia was after Xemnas's own crime syndicate, but could not afford to take the leader down without irrefutable proof. This rogue - in addition to being an incredible nuisance in his own right - was an excuse to work with the Organization, and discover that man's true motives. Then, once his guilt was ascertained, he would be killed - and a new leader instituted in his place.

"So, we are continuing on as we've discussed?" he asked, lips curling barely up into an almost invisible smile.

"With a small change. I wish you to work personally with the Organization, instead of those whom we had discussed earlier. Also," he continued, watching the other man for any reaction, "I want to personally oversee all of the work done in the area." A pause. "I will, at times, be joining you." He hadn't had enough of a challenge recently, and this situation seemed ready-made for his talents.

Saïx's smile grew at that, dangerous as ever.

"As you command, sir."

XXX

Wandering the downstairs expanses was just the thing, it appeared, to clear Zack's mind - away from the source of his confusion, it was much easier to sift through his thoughts.

It was hard, very hard, for the soldier to believe something like that of a friend, even of Sephiroth - if it had been anyone else making that statement, he would have rejected it out of hand. He simply couldn't believe that of the man.

_Oh god, Cloud_… The words interrupted the flow of his thoughts, hitting him with the force of a sword to the gut - it would be even harder for the boy, and he barely knew how to take care of himself as it was. He had loved Aerith, and he loved Sephiroth also - loved him with a relentless devotion that scared Zack sometimes. He had been getting better at not showing it, but it was still there, underneath the surface to be seen if one looked at him just right, at the right time. This would not just be an injury, but a treachery, to the kid. Although the darker soldier had the feeling that Cloud was incapable under normal circumstances of blaming the General of anything, this might cross the line. The blonde had so much trouble trusting people as it was…

But there was nothing Zack could do about Cloud until he himself had come to his own conclusions, and that was going to take a lot of reflection - so he put thoughts of the other shoulder to the side and focused on the matter at hand, for the time being.

On one side, that was one of the most terrible things he could have heard out of the other man's mouth - and on the other, it was terribly real to him - the possibility of making a mistake, of hurting someone who didn't deserve it. He could understand why the general had done what he'd done - and though he liked to think he wouldn't have done the same, he could never be quite sure.

He had never killed a woman before, but Sephiroth had been in situations where the women could be more dangerous than the men, because they seemed so innocent until they tried to kill you. So his reactions had likely been out of instinct - and he couldn't judge, exactly, because he hadn't been there.

Again, the thought came to him - what if it had been him, in Sephiroth's situation? Suddenly, he remembered a mission he'd had not so long ago - at the end, it had involved burning a small shed that had been full of opiates. When they'd come back to check that all was as it should have been, they'd found the body of a small dog in the charred remains - evidently, it had gotten inside before the door was shut and had been burned alive. What if it had been a woman or child inside that building, and they had been too far away to hear the screams?

The bottom line was that Sephiroth was a soldier, first and foremost - and Zack was also, as different as their takes on life might have been. He wasn't perfect, though his flaws were in different places than most people's, and he also could make mistakes.

It was the memory of that look of regret on the other man's face that finally made his decision for him, and he turned to make his way up the stairs, willing himself to be calm.

This wasn't going to be easy, of course - but then, forgiveness never was.

XXX

The silence in the small bedroom where Roxas was waiting tensely for Axel's return was awkward, at best - the General stood, as immobile as ever, in one corner, while the blonde's younger brother occupied the other side. For once, Sora seemed to have been left completely and utterly speechless by the earlier proceedings - but something of the magnitude of what had just passed was so far out of his realm of experience that he had probably put his mind's gears into double-time to try and figure out some advice to give.

But that was Sora's business, if he wanted it to be - it was quite frankly none of Roxas's concern, and he had better things to worry about. Like the looming possibility of death. Like their redheaded guardian, who'd swept in out of nowhere to save their asses for no apparent reason. The more he thought about Axel, the less sense he made - judging from his manipulation of Cloud and just from his job description, he was a ruthless man; and yet, he'd never been anything less than accommodating with the smaller blonde. In fact, he might have said the man was being downright nice, considering his usual standards.

Also, a man who was so ruthless and self-serving never would have put his life on the line like that - and for no pay. This hadn't been his father's doing, it had been _Axel's_ doing - of his own free will, apparently. This confused the boy immensely - but intrigued him, also.

Because in addition to his ruthlessness, the man was witty and acerbic, intelligent in the way that most of the people around Roxas had no ability to be - and he took no shit from anyone, quite frankly, which was not something the blonde was used to seeing from anyone. He didn't kiss anyone's ass, felt no responsibility to society or some fucked-up idea of social classes - and he lived the way he wanted, when he wanted to.

In short, the assassin was completely and totally free - and that was compelling to the blonde in a way that he was finally allowing himself to recognize. To his shock, he was beginning to realize that he really honestly _liked_ Axel, in a way that he didn't really like anyone except for Sora. For once, he thought that if the world burned - which would be good for it, really - then there was someone else worth saving.

The irony of his statement hit Roxas after a moment - and the thought drew a quiet laugh from him, for the first time in a very long time.

XXX

Marluxia's first idea was fair, at least, if not perfect - given that they had no idea as to the Rogue's current location, since Zexion had left no information on his mark, they would try to draw him out. This was not to say that they had forgotten the family who hired this man - he had given Xigbar that job, if he wanted it - but their focus would be on finding the Rogue, and then they would kill the family.

This was part of the reason that an alliance between himself and Xemnas was even temporarily tolerable - his suggestion had been met with, if not enthusiasm, at least acceptance. Xemnas's syndicate would quietly put out a hit on another assassin, hoping that the Rogue would be tempted by the idea and show up. Whoever was there to meet him would then attempt to kill him - and if they won, that was the end. But, there would be someone else watching, from a distance, in case the rogue did win - and from that information, they would possibly be able to come up with an ID.

And once the Organization knew who someone was - well, they were a dead man.

This would be only the first of many plans, of course - a good strategy had backups for backups, and there was always the possibility that the man wouldn't take the bait. The next lure would be the family who had hired him - they would take center-stage if the man didn't show up. They would be captured, mined for information - and then, whether they gave information or not, they would be killed.

If that did not draw him out, they would have to resort to more primitive measures.

XXX

Finally in one of his many safe-houses, Xemnas had the time and security to receive Saïx's report - his second-in-command, along with a group of less intelligent but still useful drones, had done a sweep of the mansion as best as they could, from the outside - the house in which the Rogue's former employer and his family resided.

Walking slowly into the living room from the kitchen, he sat down on his plush couch lazily, a cup of red wine in one hand, as Saïx materialized silently beside him.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly, taking a sip of the liquid and savoring its dry taste. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Yes," came the other man's response as he carefully sat into one of the plush armchairs that sat across the room. "Some very interesting things have come up."

There was a silence for a moment, as Xemnas waited for the other to continue, giving his wine an experimental twirl.

"First of all," Saïx finally continued, voice rumbling smoothly in his own peculiar brand of amusement, "there doesn't appear to have been any major signs of movement into or out of the house in days. The automobile is covered in snow, for instance, rather than ice," he informed the other without further explanation - none was needed. The snow would have melted if it had been used, then the liquid would have re-frozen in the chilly temperatures, if the vehicle had been properly driven.

"I see." He paused, and Saïx shifted restlessly in his seat. "Then we must assume that the family is gone, and likely has been gone since the beginning of the Organization's little… vendetta."

"That was my assumption," the other said, eyes glinting in victory.

Several things were made clear by that fact - first of all, the rogue was still working with the family, which was an important bit of information. Secondly, and much more importantly, was the fact that the rogue had known that the attack was about to begin, and so likely had inside information. It was not a perfect inference, by any means - but it was definitely an interesting possibility. The rogue in fact belonged to the Organization, and had decided to turn against them.

"The advantages of running an organization like mine are many," Xemnas murmured thoughtfully, expression sharpening. An organization of assassins had such limited vision - they assumed that the man was working like they did, first of all. They treated this search for a man of considerable talents as if it were just a hit, and treated their revenge upon the family separately. Secondly, they could not put all of the resources at their disposal to work at once - they were forced to attempt to solve the situation individually, rather than with the combined talents of a large group.

"So are we going to be informing Marluxia of this development?" Saïx asked with enough amusement that it was clear he already knew the answer.

"Of course not," came his superior's response. "We will let the man hang himself with his own pride and ambition. If he comes to the end of his usefulness, we will allow the rogue to take care of him - and then we will take care of the rogue himself."

This was the most intriguing that his job had been in far too long, he mused as he took another long sip of his wine. He would just have to take full advantage of it.

XXX

"Excuse me," came a voice from the edge of Sephiroth's vision, and the man looked over intently, surprised by the fact that he had been addressed twice in as many days by young children - and not in tones of fear. Either he was losing his off-putting manner, which he doubted, especially considering his admission from earlier - or they were guarding quite the extraordinary family.

Apparently the fact that the General met his gaze was enough of an invitation to continue as the little brunette - Sora, he remembered - needed.

"I heard your conversation earlier," he said, as if the older man hadn't assumed as much already, "and I just want to tell you that it was a terrible thing you did," he said, and Sephiroth flinched internally - he had already known that, there was no need to be reminded of it again and again.

"But it's a terrible thing to kill people in general, and I know that's your job," he continued quickly, apparently not wanting a response. "So I wanted to tell you that even though it's terrible… I don't think it's completely your fault." Sora paused then, and gave the other man a searching look, piercing blue eyes unguarded in a way that almost reminded him of Zack.

"Do you feel sorry for what you did?" he asked, and the general blinked, taken off guard by the blunt question.

"…Do I feel sorry for…" he repeated, as if he hadn't quite heard the question right.

"Yeah. Have you learned something from it? Would you kill her again if you were given a chance to re-do that day?" Something in his manner gave Sephiroth the uncomfortable impression that if he lied, the boy would know. He had nothing to lose by telling the truth.

"…It is impossible to be sure," he returned, gaze focused completely on the younger's face as it tensed, "but I try not to make the same mistakes twice." The look of relief on the brunette's face was almost tangible in its wide-open solidity - and he did regret it. However cold he may have acted, and however cold he may have been in many cases, the sight of real horror on the faces of people around him was one that he preferred to avoid. And, despite how he may have fought it once, the hurt mixed with the expression hit him like ice, and the thought of that same expression on Cloud's face pained him almost as much.

"Then it might take a while," Sora returned, small smile on his lips as he broke the other man's train of thought, "and a lot of work on your part, if you want to give it - but I think that you'll be forgiven."

Sephiroth did not respond to that - he was unused to receiving advice of any sort, and even more unused to accepting it - it was not a comfortable situation, or one he knew how to deal with.

He was saved from having to make the attempt by a noise from the door - and it opened momentarily, with Zack on the other side, looking perhaps a bit awkward, but determined. The general couldn't help the vague nervous feeling in his gut.

"Hey," he began slowly, straightening up to his full height and crossing his arms. "So, uh, I've been thinking," he offered - as if that hadn't been the issue which had been plaguing the silver-haired man since Zack had been gone. "And I figure that -" Sephiroth stayed very determinedly still through the spaces between these words "- even though it hurts to think about, it wasn't entirely your fault," the man said, giving a small, tentative smile.

Here, Sephiroth gave out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding - Sora's reassurances were hardly enough to quell the older man's misgivings. The thought of losing the only human contact he had managed - well, it didn't bear mentioning. He hadn't realized before just how important his friendship with Zack had been to him, or the possibility of something that was growing between himself and Cloud.

But they still had to cross that last hurdle - and there was no guarantee that the boy would ever look at him with any emotion other than hatred again.

"I know," Zack continued, taking a few steps forward and slapping a hand down on Sephiroth's shoulder, "that we've gotta do things as soldiers that aren't the best, and we've gotta follow orders - but we do good things, too, and they all balance out somehow." He took a pause, taking a deep breath and letting his serene blue gaze slide up to meet Sephiroth's emerald.

"It was a terrible thing, but… I forgive you," he said, and the words were met by a wash of relief. "And that's the important part, right?"

"…Thank you," he responded, because he didn't have anything else he could say, in the face of the other man's mercy.

XXX

XXX

Thank you for reading, and thank you for your comments - they keep me going on this, no matter how difficult it may be.

Comment if you liked? It would make me happy.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

After walking out of the Organization headquarters, carrying a small earthen pot filled with whatever was left of Zexion's ashen corpse, Axel realized slowly that he didn't even have the will to go in to mock Marluxia - not then, not in that moment. Not when the terrible knowledge of what he was going to have to do hung suspended over his head like a knife.

But, wanting to put off the inevitable for as long as possible, he returned instead to the mansion; slinking down a back alleyway so as not to be seen just in case there were any watchers. He knew that it wouldn't be long before the Organization found out who it was, and he had a target painted on his neck - he only hoped that he could take the bastards down before they could take him down. Him or Roxas.

He knew he could beat Marluxia, even with his little bitch as backup, but he wasn't sure how long he could survive against everything the Organization had, coming at him again and again, relentless. Sephiroth and Cloud - and now, he remembered, Zack - would help with that, but the question was, would it be enough? The General was legendary, indestructible - but his support could be pulled at any minute. If he wanted to make sure Cloud never left, he would have to make the blonde invested in this mission - make him care about one of the boys.

This had to happen soon - because too quickly, in far too few moments, everything would come together, and it would come down to who was better, and who could stand longer.

But right then, after Zexion's death and before they'd had time to organize anything else, would probably be his last chance to leave - his last chance to take Roxas out of that damned house, show him something he'd never seen before. His last before everything was over, if they survived it all.

So he glided into the entryway from the back entrance and up the stairs, the beginnings of an idea churning in his mind - because he wanted to see Roxas smile, because he didn't know how much time they were going to have together. Even if they both survived, he didn't know whether Roxas would still want him around afterwards - but if either of them died, he sure as damnation wasn't going to hell without having fucking kissed the kid.

If he was going to die, he was going to die with no regrets. He had never had any up until this point, and although Roxas was having a bad effect on his conscience, he wasn't planning to change that. If he could see the blonde smile - _really_ smile - at _him_, just him, then everything would be worth it.

He burst into the room where Roxas and Sora waited, accompanied by the new guard, Zack, who was sprawled in the back corner, and a rather large stack of books from the downstairs library which both brothers had been apparently devouring voraciously. The elder looked up from his novel - Hemingway, Axel noted with approval - and gave him an expression that wasn't a smile, but he could see the emotion deep in the blonde's eyes that said he didn't mind the other's entrance. That was far better than nothing.

"Oh, so you're back," he said, probably trying to sound derisive and failing, for once - he sounded mostly content, nestled on the bed with his younger brother and a good book. Sora looked up at that also, and gave a smile - everybody but Axel seemed to like the little brunette a ton; but the fact was, sometimes the kid's optimism and cheerfulness was too much to bear. Made you wanna show him what the real world was like.

"Yep. I'm back," he responded, grinning as ever. Zack looked up from his position in the corner, but the redhead paid him no attention. He wasn't important - not right now. "But not for long. You and I are going out."

"…Isn't that a little bit dangerous?" Roxas asked, one eyebrow in the air, words almost drowned out as his brother simultaneously made an excited noise and said, "Do I get to come too?"

"Yes, and no, in that order," he responded blithely, expression not changing. "But I wouldn't take you out if I thought it was gonna be a stupid risk. Have more faith in me than that, dumbass," he continued fondly. "And you, kid - Sora," he corrected himself as Roxas gave him an accusing look, "you're gonna stay here, ok? I can't keep the both of you safe at once," he added, more as an explanation for Roxas's sake than because it was actually truth. He didn't want Sora along, period.

He finally acknowledged Zack with a nod, and the soldier jumped up with much more energy than he should have had for someone who'd looked like they were about to fall asleep on duty such a short time ago.

"I'll keep the kid safe for you," he said with a grin, one that was so different from Axel's own. "You do what you have to do," he told the other, as if somehow under the impression that the assassin needed his permission. He threw the other a lazy salute, and the redhead wondered briefly just what the hell kind of ShinRa officer this guy _was_. The thought passed after a second, because he realized that the expression on Roxas's face just might have been a smile.

He made a motion to the kid that he should get up, and turned back around to the doorway as the boy did so.

"You two have fun," he said, opening the door in an exaggerated - and slightly teasing - gentlemanly motion. "Don't expect us back before a couple hours. If it's any later than that, though, send out the search patrols," he informed the dark-haired soldier, who responded with a rather unprofessional thumbs up gesture.

As soon as Roxas had passed, he turned and followed, shutting the door behind him as he smiled genuinely for the first time in - to be entirely honest, he couldn't remember, and he didn't care much either. What was the point in thinking about the past when the present was so delicate and wonderful?

XXX

"You know, you're going to have to talk to him eventually," came Zack's voice, cutting through Sephiroth's troubled silence.

The general turned around to face his friend then, noting distantly that the man had a much smaller brunette shadow following behind. He paid the boy no heed, however, focusing on the words at hand, though he didn't respond; chiefly because there was nothing to say.

He knew that he would have to face the blonde's accusation, his hatred, eventually. Though he understood that another man might have died for such a transgression against the blonde - he had proven as much with his icy determination to kill their opponent - the general had no fear for his own life. Still, he might have to face the blonde soldier's sword - and that thought was hardly appealing, though he had no thought of losing.

"I'm… not exactly sure how he's going to react," Zack continued after a moment, and the general gave a little frown - how could the other man not know how his friend would react? It was fairly obvious. "But, he still needs to know."

It would be a shame, Sephiroth mused, to lose someone who could have been one of their most promising officers. As much as the man confused him, as much as he always felt like he was missing something crucial when the other man spoke to him, he didn't want to lose the soldier. That was all.

If he had been honest with himself, he would have realized that he didn't want to admit how much he'd been quietly expecting Zack to worm Cloud into his life, like the dark-haired man had done with himself years ago. He'd been thoughtlessly waiting for it - and he'd found that now, once it was no longer a possibility, he had liked the idea.

"You still with me, Seph?" the other soldier asked once the silence got to be too much for him, and took a step forward to have a better look at the other man's face.

"I shall inform him," Sephiroth responded after a beat, expression immobile as ever, "once he returns."

The general's best friend - his only friend was not taken in by the stoniness of his manner, giving him a look that meant he _knew _something was wrong. Sephiroth did not respond, didn't give any indication that he had noticed - and after a moment, Zack shook his head slightly, like he had been about to say something and hadn't.

This was uncharacteristic enough that it stood out for a moment in Sephiroth's notice - there were very few things in the world that Zack Fair could not, or would not, say, and his spoken filter was notoriously terrible. It left the question of what, exactly, he was avoiding - but the General, in his turn, did not speak, leaving a wall of troubled quiet between them.

A rustle broke the silence, and then the other man's cheerful grin was back on his face.

"Don't think about it too much, though, ok?" he half-ordered, giving Sephiroth a casual slap on the shoulder, though the uncomfortable look had not faded from behind his crystal eyes. "Nothin' you can do 'till Spike gets back," he continued, "and you're looking more and more like you swallowed an anthill every second. We'll worry about it when there's something to worry about."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at that, looking down to meet the smaller man's stare.

"'We?'" he asked, unsure if the other man had misspoken and focusing on that rather than having to think about the actual meaning of the other man's sentence.

"…Of course 'we,'" Zack responded, not letting his expression change despite his short laugh, "I'm not letting you handle this by yourself - no offense meant but you _know_ you suck at people. I'm not gonna do this for you, but I am gonna help you out." He gave another chuckle then, slinging his arm as best as he could over the much taller man's shoulders. "What, you think I was gonna leave you to this on your own? You may have done something bad, and you can be a real prick sometimes - but you are my friend, and I _care_ about what happens to you. Don't be stupid," he informed the other, more exasperated than chastising.

Sephiroth didn't respond to that, and his expression didn't change - but he knew, somehow, that Zack would understand what he meant anyway, even if he himself did not.

XXX

It was the very edge of the darkest afternoon that Axel had ever seen when he and Roxas walked outside of the mansion, both of them almost obscured by the liquid black as they moved.

"So," the small blonde began, steps unhesitant despite the dark, "where are we going, and why are you taking me there when it's so dangerous to be outside?" he asked, sounding halfway accusing and half excited, a combination that only Roxas could really pull off. It was his punk-assed little attitude that did it, combined with his innocence and barely covered excitement about the world that he had never been allowed to see.

"We're going to someplace fun I know," the redhead returned, eyes lit up but without the glint of danger, "and we're going now because I killed the son of a bitch who was after you," he continued conversationally. "I know how the Organization works - there won't be another guy on us for at least a couple of hours. So, now is the best time if I want to take you out to see anything."

He gave a glance upwards, to the violent black of the sky.

"Besides," he continued, a gleam in his eye as his gaze slid downwards, "if we can get there quick enough, we should be in for something really fuckin' cool."

The blonde wasn't even bothering to hide his excitement by this point, but didn't seem to notice - and Axel wasn't about to call attention to it, because he liked seeing that wide-open, childish look on the boy's face. The minute Roxas noticed the way he was acting, that would be the end of _that_.

They continued on absently, the space between them filled with meaningless banter, both men simply throwing words at each other that had no real purpose but to gauge each other, to see how the other would react - and this was perfectly alright by Axel, because he _wanted_ to hear Roxas talk. He wanted to see how they boy might have been, when his life wasn't constantly in danger and when the family that he cared about wasn't also three steps from a terrible death. He wanted to know what the blonde would be like, after everything.

It took them about a half hour before they made it to the spot the redhead had been walking towards, and by that time it had already begin to snow - lightly at first, but growing in intensity with each moment.

"This is it?" Roxas asked skeptically, interrupting their conversation, his guarded demeanor almost returning as he glanced at the structure.

It was true that it didn't look like much - the skeletal beginnings of a skyscraper towered bleakly over the city, a jagged behemoth that soared upwards to eventually blend with the blackness of the sky. It wasn't exactly what the blonde was used to, sure - but it was as close to luxury as a kid off of the streets would ever see. The view as fucking unforgettable.

"Yes and no," Axel returned, grin growing as he effortlessly vaulted over the makeshift fence that surrounded the construction area. It, like the rest of the city, was deserted in the face of the oncoming storm, pulleys and steel beams creating a kind of urban jungle around the beginnings of the structure.

"Yes, because this is where we're going," the redhead continued, making a gesture that Roxas should follow. "And no, because we're going to the top." He laughed a little at the blonde's incredulous face. "Come on, don't look like that. You'll love it, promise."

It was only with a tiny attempt at a grumble that the blonde did as requested, climbing the fence with too much ease for someone who wasn't supposedly in the habit of doing so, and dropping over on the other side gracefully.

"This seems inexplicably idiotic to me," Roxas muttered as he examined the pile of beams Axel stood next to. "Remind me again why I'm doing this?"

"Because you've never gotten to do anything so badass in your life and you trust my opinion."

The blonde didn't respond to that, and Axel took the time to step onto the platform that held the pile of beams. It wasn't nearly as unsafe as it looked, really - the four ropes attached to the corners created a sort of makeshift elevator as they stretched upwards, to where they would be attached to pulleys at the top. There had been a safety invented not too long ago, so that if one of the ropes broke the contraption wouldn't fall all the way to the ground. So, the only real danger was the possibility of falling off the side - in which case the person would almost certainly die.

But a little bit of danger was good for the soul, after all.

XXX

"This seems pretty damn unsafe," Roxas mumbled as he took a tentative step onto the wooden platform that held his friend.

"Nope, it's fine as long as you don't jump off or something," Axel returned with a look in his eye, a shard of mischief that looked like it belonged there, maybe even more than the threat of danger that was ever-present in his gaze. Roxas saw it, that gleam of absolute, supreme self-confidence, when the redhead looked at other people, but never really thought about what that _meant. _Now, he supposed, was not the ideal time.

"You are a crazy bastard, do you know that?"

Axels' grin could have cut rock, but the blonde was strangely unafraid - of the other man, at least, because the bottom dropped out of his stomach in an instant as the platform suddenly, without any warning that the boy could see, shot into the air at what seemed like a million miles a second.

He bit his tongue as the dark rushed by and grabbed onto the rope like his life fucking _depended _on it, grateful that it was hard to see more than five feet in front of you - or _down_ - because otherwise he would have been a thousand times more terrified. The blonde wasn't particularly afraid of heights - his father's skyscraper didn't do anything to him - but falling from them was quite the different story. But once the platform had reached a tentative stop, shaking back and forth once _just_ to keep the blonde on his toes, Roxas risked a look down.

Spread out before him, hundreds of feet below and _miles_ around, were a sprinkling of lights, painting their surroundings in their surreal glow and softened to a pale halo by the lightly falling snow. Thousands of them surrounded the two, and the darkness made it feel like they were floating, stepping from nothing to nothing as Axel took his hand to guide him across the short emptiness to more stable ground.

"It's beautiful," he breathed, halfway involuntary, as he watched the entire scene be lit up for a half second by a flash of lightning miles off, illuminating the clouds with its short-lived but fiery passion, followed by a roll of thunder like an avalanche. Within seconds, the topaz energy crackled again, leaping from cloud to cloud in a frenzy of life, touching down and then back up again, bringing the crack of thunder with it, barely pausing for breath before it started up again.

"I thought you might like it," Axel said more quietly than was his norm, but the blonde hardly noticed because he had never been anywhere quite like this, with its beauty tinged by an edge of adrenaline at the danger of it.

They moved forward, almost together, and sat at the edge - Roxas with his legs crossed, and the redhead's dangling over the edge like he was courting fate.

"Thanks for taking me here," the blonde finally breathed, not taking his eyes off of the explosions of light that cut the edges of the clouds in topaz.

"It's not a problem," Axel responded, and Roxas could see through the corner of his eye that the smile had left his friend's face, replaced by an expression of serenity that was wholly alien on the blonde's face, contrasting as it did with the triangles of color painted on to give him a constant air of danger. After a moment, he turned to the blonde, and the boy took that moment go give a smile back, finally meeting with Axel's bottle-green eyes.

"Hey, listen, Rox," the redhead began carefully, and Roxas, for once, didn't mind the nickname. "I wanted to…" Another pause, and the blonde raised an eyebrow. "I wanted… Aw, fuck it," he muttered, and suddenly Roxas's world was thrown off its axis by the man's lips crossing the impossible distance to meet his.

He barely had a moment to register it, to notice that the redhead's lips were chapped from the cold and the wind - his probably weren't any better - or to notice that those long, elegant fingers had fisted themselves in his hair, before he'd pulled away, eyes wide in shock.

The blonde would have been lying if he'd said that something like this had never even occurred to him for the briefest second - which was what it had been, before he'd pushed it down and away, sure for some reason that… Sure that he was just crazy, because of course the blonde wasn't _like_ that. And besides none of this made any _sense_, why _now?_

"…What?" he finally asked, bemused, dark lashes giving his blue eyes a startled outline, and he saw a grin begin to slowly grow on the redhead's face.

"I thought that was kind of obvious," Axel noted, giving a short ringing laugh. "Evidently, I was wrong. That, Roxy, was a kiss."

"I _know_ that," the younger huffed, color shooting up through his face until he really couldn't meet the other's eyes any more. "I want to know what you were doing kissing me? And _now?!_"

"As good a time as any," the redhead pointed out, amused - but for the first time, Roxas looked, _really_ looked, at what was hiding behind the older man's mask, and he realized something. The tint of fear was barely noticeable, when he had so much practice at hiding it, but it was _there_, and that made him wonder _why_. What could the blonde possibly do to him?

"Why?" He could hear his voice go up an octave as his mind strained to find some kind of answer - no, scratch that, some kind of answer that made _sense…_

"That should be pretty obvious too."

"Not to me."

Axel gave a long sigh then, and ran a hand through his mess of hair, then gave a half amused, half… apologetic, look towards the other.

"Look, kiddo. This might seem weird or even kinda fucked up to you, but… You struck me as something special, on day one, you know that? Special enough that I'm giving up my whole fucking job and my whole fucking _life_ to keep you safe," he added, with enough of a touch of bitterness that Roxas was taken by surprise, but it was gone in an instant - replaced by this triumphant amusement.

"And I wasn't going to go to the fucking grave without having kissed you," he continued, "because maybe you're a little bit spoiled and you've got an attitude to kill by but you're not fucking afraid of _anything_, even though you couldn't ever back it up." He laughed awkwardly, then looked back out at the storm as it drew closer. "It's just you and your stubbornness against the world, kiddo," he drawled then, without any kind of explanation as to what exactly that meant.

Partially because of that last statement but mostly regardless of it, Roxas was left rather more than speechless by the other's vehement explanation, jaw slackening as he spent his considerable mental energies on more important functions.

"So wait, you're in _love _with me?!" he finally asked, with an innocence typical for his age - he didn't think about the baggage associated with that word, or the implications. And of course, to a teenager - even the less than traditional kind - any romantic interest was automatically love.

"I didn't say anything about that, did I?" Axel shot back defensively, breaking effortlessly through the blonde's illusions. "But I _don't_ want you to die, and I didn't…" He paused then, giving Roxas a look that the boy couldn't interpret.

"You know what, forget it," he finally muttered, standing up slowly. "This was a bad idea. Forget any of this ever happened, ok?"

This brought everything in his mind to a screeching halt, like a freight train trying desperately to slow itself before careening fatally off a bridge. This new development had just broken all his bridges, apparently - all of his expectations, because suddenly, he was faced with the very real possibility of losing Axel forever, and he did _not_ want that to happen.

Maybe he wasn't interested in men in that way, but the redhead was the most interesting thing that had happened to him in a very long time - and if the situation was different, he could see them being friends, being _real_ friends. And if that was what he had to do in order to keep Axel as his friend - his _best_ friend - then he would do it. Besides, it wasn't like he had any particular attraction to _anyone_ - not since that ill-fated crush on Olette in grammar school, so he might as well.

So, Roxas, in a fit of inspiration, stood up just quickly enough to crush their lips together again, ignoring the look of total bewilderment on the redhead's face, and noted that the sensation of their two mouths meeting was warm, and not entirely unpleasant. Quite pleasant, actually, and even enjoyable, if he wanted to be honest with himself - which he, of course, did not.

_Yes_, he thought as Axel's arms closed around him, tentatively at first, then more firmly; and they shut out everything with their strength - the danger of their position, of the storm, of their hunters and their situation. _Yes_, he repeated himself in silence. This would be a more than acceptable payment.

XXX

Sliding through the streets silently, distantly, Cloud finally had time to think - and time to push the gently coalescing thoughts away again, because he didn't want them, didn't need them. This sudden, unexpected sympathy for the assassin Zexion was not only unwanted, it was _disgraceful -_ although he knew that Aerith was not a vengeful person, to him, this terrible sympathy was nothing less than dishonoring to her memory.

_Aerith, I'm __**sorry**_…

The fact that he even dared, for a moment, to compare Aerith's sweet smile to the serene lifelessness of that murdering bastard's bloody face was ludicrous - laughable, really. He had thought that he'd _loved _her - maybe it was only in his own quiet way, and maybe not the way he loved -

- but it obviously wasn't enough, if he was having doubts, regrets, about that man's death.

Plagued by these thoughts, and regret for his own guilt at the actions he might have taken, he stepped quietly over the threshold to the mansion, practically invisible, and made his way to the bedroom that had become their makeshift headquarters.

He expected to find nothing in there other than what he did, even though he didn't want to face Zack, with his love for the girl stronger than anything Cloud could ever give to her - or Sephiroth, who barely noticed him, barely realized he was there. This had never bothered him extraordinarily, but tonight, he didn't want to think, didn't want to compare, because Aerith deserved more than that.

"I'm back," he mumbled quietly as he opened the door, realizing without saying anything that the room had three occupants - one of the children was conspicuously missing, but nothing could have happened to him because not only Zack, but Sephiroth occupied the room. Both men stood on opposite sides, a comfortable silence resting between them of the sort that Cloud would never have been able to have with the General.

"Spike!" Zack exclaimed, shooting the blond a furtive look that was maybe a little bit more uncomfortable than it ought to have been, and then another to Sephiroth. "I'm glad you're here. So, uh, how did it go?"

There were a million things Cloud could have said to that, and maybe he would have, if only he and Zack had been alone - but even though it would never matter, the idea of showing weakness in front of General Sephiroth was repulsive. He would never measure up, but at least he didn't have to be an embarrassment.

"The man is dead." Nothing more needed to be said than that, and he turned around to leave again, and be alone with his thoughts - but Sephiroth's voice interrupted his departure.

"Strife," he began, and the blonde froze in his tracks. "There is something we need to discuss."

He didn't turn around, but waited for the man to continue - and after a moment, that silver bass could be heard again.

"We know why you went to kill that man, and though your service was appreciated, we -" there was another beat, and Cloud heard a motion from behind him, and an unintelligible mutter from Zack's corner, "- no, I felt obligated to tell you. The man you killed was not your love's murderer."

The words didn't hit him like a lance, as perhaps they should have - but a chill crept its way up him as his throat tightened, and he turned around with one step to face both men. The look of absolute indifference on Sephiroth's face wrenched in his gut, a reminder that the man would never look at him any other way - but the look of apology on Zack's was almost worse, because it meant that every breath was true.

The memory flashed up again, that bloody face surrounded by the white - and he flinched, but stood upright, and met Sephiroth's guarded gaze.

"If that's all you have to -"

"Wait, Spike," Zack interrupted, and those hesitant words were enough to halt the blonde's words.

"The real purpose of that," Sephiroth continued, voice smooth and beautiful - but the look on his face, for just an instant, was recognizable to a boy who had made studying that face his habit - it was pain, and perhaps a bit of regret.

"The purpose was to tell you that I am your Aerith's killer," he intoned gravely, and every word was like shattered glass to Cloud's astonished mind.

Unable to speak, or respond in any way, he turned slowly, dazedly, to Zack - and again, the look on his face quietly confirmed everything that the General was saying, every terrifying word.

He couldn't help but seize up, every instinct crying out for a different action - Aerith's voice, laughing, lips curving into a smile that was for _him_ from across the beautiful distance, beyond the haze he couldn't cross - Sephiroth's crystalline gaze, calm and yet never serene, giving a window inside for anyone who knew how to look, though frosted over from disuse. Two warring impulses fought in him then - and he was not a strong enough man to pick between the two.

It was all Cloud could do to keep his face stony as he turned, then left, thoughts flashing and swirling - one side to another, across courses they hadn't taken in years. He ignored Zack's murmur that he should wait; he couldn't face the other man, because even though he _knew_ the soldier wouldn't blame him, he also knew that he couldn't face the man when he was abandoning his duty to Aerith by walking out the door. He just -

_- Sephiroth, I… - _

He cut the thought short, unable to stomach the idea of what was to come.

_If I was a stronger man, I would turn back in that door and do something._

Walking away - outside, into the dark - he wished for things that couldn't ever be.

XXX

The storm had finally moved overhead when Axel left the mansion again, having given Roxas over to the protection of ShinRa's General, and it showered clouds of perfect snow in layers onto the city. He had wondered for a moment, why, exactly, had Sephiroth looked so moody - even past his usual - but that wasn't really any of the assassin's business, he reminded himself. It probably wasn't going to affect the job - and he could do whatever the hell he wanted as long as the blonde's pretty little neck stayed in one piece.

They hadn't spent too long together, the two of them, at the top of the skyscraper, looking down at the city carved in bronze by lightning flashes - but the time they had spent was enough to reaffirm everything that Axel had known from the beginning. Everything was worth it.

So, with the memory of Roxas's smile on his lips, he finally felt that he could face what he knew he had to do. He, for once, had no desire to gloat - in fact, he would have liked nothing better than turning around and getting back to what he had started with the little blonde. But he knew, somehow, that this was what he had to do - so he had slowly, gravely, collected the shamefully plain urn that held Zexion's ashes, and begun the long walk to Demyx's apartment.

After far too long and far too short of a time, the building finally approached his vision - etched as it was by the ethereal halo of the streetlight into the coal-black sky. Another few steps in the light pillow of snow on the ground and he was at the stairs - another moment and he was at the door, breaths coming faster than they should have been, warm air giving off puffs of cold steam that disappeared into nothing.

He picked up the brass knocker and let it fall, once, twice, and was paid for his efforts by a creak of the door, and behind it, a face that lit up upon seeing the man on the other side.

"Axel! How are you?" Demyx asked, energy bubbling over as he swung the door fully open to allow his friend - the word didn't sting to think, but it ought to have - access to his abode. "I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to?"

"Demyx," Axel interjected, jade eyes solemn, for once, and the way he said it stopped the other man in his tracks, blood draining from his lively face to leave it wrought and terrified. The redhead took a few steps in, because he would not do this on the doorstep, and shut the door behind. "There's something…"

"Oh god, something's wrong," he whispered, blue eyes wide, knowing. "Something's really wrong, isn't it."

Axel nodded mutely, because his voice didn't seem to be working the way it normally did - of course not, when he couldn't brush away what had happened with something acerbic and witty.

"Demyx - I really hate to say this, but there -"

"- Oh god -" the musician choked out, and the redhead flinched, but continued.

"There was no one else who could come." Their breaths echoed for a moment in the silence. Axel could see it in the younger's eyes - he knew what was coming, and didn't want to hear it. "Dem, Zexion's dead. I -"

"Oh god, _no…_" he gasped, expression crumpling, voice so wretched, so _broken_ that Axel couldn't respond, couldn't do anything but go on. He didn't know why he had decided to do this _what_ had made him think that he could achieve anything by this.

"-I was there for his cremation. I brought back his ashes." He made a small gesture towards the urn in his hands, and put it down on the table in the entryway.

"You're _lying_," Demyx said, backing up until he half-fell onto his couch, but the redhead knew the other didn't _mean_ what he was saying; he trusted too much to think that Axel would lie about something this important. A pause, then a gasping sob that the assassin couldn't watch. "He's not dead, there's been some kind of mistake."

"No mistake," Axel returned, taking a few steps of his own until he was seated on the chair directly opposite the other. "I saw it, Demyx. It's…" He gave a furtive look to the door then, questioning the wisdom of having sat down.

"…Do you want me to leave?" the assassin asked quietly, hoping that the blonde would want him to, and yet knowing that it was not to be.

"No, don't leave," he choked out, tears finally finding their way past the shock and onto his face. "I can't bear to - Axel, I can't do this _alone_. Zexion…"

Axel made himself watch - made himself watch the tears and the anguish that wrote itself across every line of the younger's face - because he knew that this was his final punishment, his absolution for his sins. If he could do this, if he could wait through this, it would gain him nothing; but he knew that if he couldn't, if he walked away, he would lose everything - and that was so much worse.

"I'm sorry, Demyx," he said, and he was - not for what he had done, but that it had to be done. He could only imagine, what it would have been like for him to lose Roxas that way, and the thought twisted itself, buried itself in his chest, the sound of every wracking sob driving it closer to his core.

"I know. I know. I…" his word cracked there, voice crumbling with the emotion, and the pieces fell for an eternity and shattered before he could pick them up again. "I always kinda knew he would die this way, only… not so soon. I just wish I'd had a chance to say… to say goodbye, you know?"

"Yeah," Axel responded, finally allowing himself the shame of not meeting the blonde's gaze. "Yeah, I do."

There was silence between them after that - silence, except for the broken gasps that Demyx could not quite hold in.

For once, Axel couldn't blame him for the weakness.

XXX

"So does the fact that Zexion was killed mean that he was onto something or that he was just an idiot?" Larxene asked from her chair, and Marluxia bristled at the intrusion of his thought process - after some consideration, he had voiced the possibility that the younger assassin had died because he was dangerous and not because he was stupid.

The chief difficulty was that no proof could be found that it was the Rogue who had killed Zexion - though that was what they all assumed, it could have been a guard of the targeted family. So, though clearly he was less than intelligent because he allowed himself to be found, he was considered a danger to either the family or to the rogue.

_Possibly_, something told him, _to both_ - but that was even less substantiated than any of the other thoughts he'd been having, and thus was more likely to be true. For an assassin, instinct had to rule, or else you would die.

"I think that he was dangerous," Marluxia responded, wishing in that moment that he had never said anything to her - all he needed just then was to think to himself, without interruptions. "I think that you need to stop asking me questions, before I become angry." He paused then - if he had thought of this Xemnas might have too, and might have men on it that he could actually give orders to.

"Larxene," he finally said with only an edge of relief - finally, a half-solution and a way to get rid of her for the moment, "I need you to go to Xemnas's syndicate, and start threatening people - and for god's sake don't get yourself killed - until you've found out anything that his people know."

For now, it was ideal - he would still set up the fake hit to lure the Rogue in - but in the meantime, he would take advantage of a man whose resources were greater than his, as much as he hated to admit it verbally.

"With pleasure," she responded, the razors in her voice almost physical, and Marluxia smiled as she went.

XXX

From his first step out of the door, Cloud's intention had always halfway been to make his way back to his apartment, where he could sit and muse in peace, without any distractions. He had successfully managed, up until this point, to avoid thinking about _him_ - some relief, at least - but thoughts of Aerith refused to leave him alone. Thoughts of her death, droplets of crimson on the white as she had been taken from this world far too early.

But _he killed her_ - what did that mean? Why?

For the first time, he wondered about the killer's motivation - he had never before been inclined to think so kindly on the murderer's actions as to attempt to divine a motive, but placing Sephiroth in that position… Suddenly, everything changed, and Cloud wasn't entirely sure that he wanted it to. He wanted to go on hating the bastard who had torn the life from her, the refuse of humanity that had killed his Aerith - but Sephiroth was none of those things. The man was ruthless, a terror in battle, but never needlessly cruel.

So perhaps, maybe, there had been a reason. He had seemed, if the blonde had read him rightly, almost regretful of his actions, so maybe - maybe Aerith wouldn't - but she deserved so much _more…_

He was distracted for a moment as he approached his apartment by the sight of movement from inside his window - a flash of red on black, whispering away before he had a chance to react.

A person in his window - that probably meant that his place was still occupied. Yuffie and her friend were still there, recovering from - he didn't precisely know what, and wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to ask.

So he turned away and walked down towards a lower sector of the city, guilt warring with love and joining with it, until neither could be distinguished from the other - and the conflicting emotions, too much the same, tore him apart with every step.

XXX

Maybe Roxas couldn't quite help the grin on his face, but that definitely wasn't license for Sora to give him _that look_ - the knowing, amused one that annoyed him _so bad. _His brother could be a total airhead, but then there were those days when he was way too perceptive for his own good, and damn him, this was apparently one of them. Though he probably wasn't getting _exactly _what had happened on the skyscraper, he was definitely getting that something was different.

"So did you have fun?" Sora asked, voice innocent as ever, as the two brothers searched the bookshelves in their massive library under Sephiroth's sharp eye, as Zack chatted at the silver-haired man quietly from where he sat in a corner.

"…Stop giving me that look," Roxas muttered as he put a gold-embossed copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ back onto the shelf. "_Yes_, I had fun. Now stop looking at me like that," he whined as his brother's grin didn't shrink any.

"I'm glad," the brunette returned, happily taking out a Jack London compilation and flipping through the pages. "I know that you don't make friends easily, and even if these aren't the best circumstances, I'm happy that you have."

That statement stopped Roxas short a little bit, because suddenly it occurred to him that his brother must have worried, all of those days when he didn't see anyone, wouldn't go out to climb and play with the brunette's inanely cheerful group of friends. He hadn't seen it then, maybe - but looking back, it was there.

The blonde didn't say anything immediately, because he figured this wouldn't be the best time to bring that up - but that reminder, the thought of what a genuinely good person his brother was, went to his throat.

_If I'm ever going to tell him_, he thought to himself, caressing the leather cover of a book whose name had been lost to time, _then the best time would probably be now. No secrets between us, right? _he reminded himself with a small smile - it was a little bit stupid, but it was _their_ tradition, left over from days when their situation was different.

The brothers had learned early that wealth intimidated, it seemed; no one would come close, or stay for long even if they did - at least at during their early years. Without other friends, or even strong acquaintances, and with their parents constantly busy, the two brothers had to be everything for each other - so at Sora's request, they'd started telling each other everything that happened in their day, every little triumph and disappointment.

Though this tradition had fallen into disrepair over the years, Sora was still the most important person in Roxas's life - bar none - and he had a right to know.

"Um, yeah," the blonde agreed to his brother's earlier statement, "That. But, uh… I'm not exactly sure you'd call us 'friends,'" Roxas mumbled, feeling a flash of heat across his cheeks. He shouldn't be embarrassed, dammit.

Sora raised an eyebrow.

"What would you call yourselves, then? I'm not sure just 'acquaintances' would cover it," he informed the other as he added another tome to the stack he was collecting.

"Um… I guess 'lovers' would be the loose term," he mumbled, almost too quietly for Sora to hear it, and kind of hoping that he hadn't. "I don't know what you'd call it technically." The other option in terms, "sweethearts," was excruciatingly painful to think about, and made him choke involuntarily every time it came to mind.

Sora's reaction was blank at first, then a look of realization broke on his face, and Roxas could see everything clicking in his mind way too quickly.

"Wait, do you really mean…" The brunette didn't say much after that, because "we're lovers" was a pretty straightforward statement. "So you're… uh… attracted to men?" he asked in that mild way of his, trying not to judge, though his mind was probably racing. Roxas was glad then that their family had never been particularly religious, because he _didn't _need to hear any of that.

"Not as a rule, no." Roxas had stopped actively deluding himself about the nature of his feelings towards Axel somewhere in the midst of the second kiss, and all illusions had shattered beautifully during the fourth or fifth. He'd stopped counting.

Shakespeare went back on the shelf, to be replaced in his stack by Tennyson. He turned back to his brother then, and gave him a smile - and Sora's smile was slow but honest.

"So that time when you and Axel were drunk and I walked in to the kitchen…" the brunette asked after a beat, and Roxas winced, remembering how Sora had walked in on what had definitely _not_ been about to become a sexual encounter of any kind. He had thoroughly convinced himself of such at the time, though was taking the time now to reconsider.

"Yes. I mean, no, you didn't walk in on anything! Nothing was happening," he defended himself futilely, feeling his cheeks growing hotter as he continued.

Watching him from behind his stack of leather-bound books, Sora suddenly gave a peal of laughter.

"That's great, Roxas. I'm happy for you. It's great you've found someone you can be with." He frowned then, as if something had just occurred to him. "As long as you're not doing anything… uh… Serious. Not yet."

There was a moment of quiet then.

"You're not, are you?" Sora finally asked, and the question was so out of the blue that Roxas could have sworn he felt his face combusting from shame.

"Sora!"

"What? Just looking out for my older brother!" he responded, giving a grin that said he wasn't really serious.

"No need, but thanks just the same," Roxas returned, giving a resigned sigh and picking up his books, musing only half in earnest that this had been a very bad idea.

XXX

Bringing bad news to the higher-ups in the ShinRa corporation had never been particularly high on Reno's to-do list, but at least today the president was away - which left him dealing with Rufus instead, which was infinitely preferable. At least the blonde had some respect for the Turks and what they did, even if he was a harsh, anal-retentive son of a bitch sometimes.

So he swaggered into the vice president's office, Rude accompanying silently, and he could see Rufus tense as he looked up from his desk, because the redhead had _that grin_ on. The younger ShinRa was fun as all hell to antagonize.

"So, boss," he began, cutting off Rude - who was beginning what was sure to be a very clinical and professional report, which wasn't nearly as much fun. The dark man cleared his throat, but Reno continued anyway. "Turns out we've found out something interesting. You higher ups made a big mistake," he drawled, eyes laughing.

That was not something he would have risked with anyone but Rufus, of course, but the Turk secretly suspected that the blonde _enjoyed_ his rampant insubordination. Life was probably no fun for the controlling bastard unless there was someone to put back in their place.

"You might be wise not to make those statements to me," the vice-president said, gaze flashing in warning. "I _will _punish you. I'm docking half your pay for the week." He paused then, giving another flourish to the signature he was currently giving to some unimportant document or other.

Reno flinched a little - half of his weeks pay was not crippling, but kind of unusual; usually the man waited until at least the third terribly disrespectful comment before taking pay. The Turks, especially the Four Aces, were important enough - and dangerous enough - to avoid antagonizing them unnecessarily.

"In any case," the blonde continued as if nothing had ever happened, fixing Reno with a half-threatening look, "Did you make that statement for a valid purpose or merely for your own amusement?"

"Bit of both," Reno responded with a toothy grin - he could hear his partner sigh from beside him, and he could practically feel Rude's disapproving gaze boring into his skull, so he figured this might be the time to get down to business. "But anyway, my point was we have a positive ID on the guy who attacked the lab. His name's Vincent Valentine, I dunno if you'll remember that name - but he was a Turk here, little before my time," he informed the other, watching the muscles in his neck tense. "Lab specimen for Hojo after a while - no wonder he's got a grudge. But in any case, he has fuckin' _nothin' _to do with the Organization."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"So you fucked up big time, sending two of our captains and the General off on an assignment that has no fucking purpose," the redhead drawled with a hand gesture to emphasize.

The look the vice-president shot him then was smoldering, but reined in - like he wasn't quite on the verge of physical assault yet, but might be in a minute if he got pushed too far.

"You will learn to watch your tongue around me, Turk," he growled, standing up from his desk quickly. "I want the order out now that the General and the others are recalled from assignment, and those resources will be devoted instead to finding and killing Vincent Valentine."

The authority in his voice was hardly new, but it was surprising - usually he at least pretended to be alright with letting his father have control over the company.

"Uh, boss, aren'tcha gonna wait 'till your dad…"

"No. I will not allow our company's strength to diminish simply because my father is away," he responded, golden baritone harsh. "Call the Organization. Give them money or pardons or whatever, but I want them back on our side."

The blonde stood up straighter suddenly, and his gaze had a sharpness to it that meant he had just had a sudden inspiration.

"Tell them," Rufus began, and Rude shifted uncomfortably beside the redhead, as if he knew that this could not bode well, "that we will help them to hunt this Rogue they've been having such trouble with, if in return for our goodwill they will assist us with the hunting of our own."

Reno didn't let his grin fall, even though that didn't sit entirely right with him - instinct or whatever, he wasn't quite sure. But despite his misgivings, he knew that this was not the time to challenge Rufus again.

"Yes sir," he responded, giving a salute that was more mocking than anything, and left to follow his boss's orders, ignoring the feeling in his gut that said this might be a very bad idea.

*~*~*

XXX

I confuse myself writing this sometimes… And apologies for the super-long chapter. I just couldn't end it, heh.

Comment if you like? Thanks for all the responses on the last chapter, guys, you _really_ made me happy.

I love each and every one of you. No really.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The lingering coil of guilt that accompanied every thought was not a usual sensation for the General, nor was it particularly welcome - Cloud Strife still hadn't returned, and he couldn't quite shake the feeling that the blonde wouldn't be doing so, at least not anytime in the near future.

_You drove him away_, an ugly voice warbled triumphantly from the back of his mind, and Sephiroth's face tightened in anger. _It's because you're a monster, you can't even do something so simple as _not _kill -_ in half a moment and by the sheer force of his considerable will, he cut off the voice mid-sentence. That did no-one any good, and sitting around thinking about it did nothing to assuage the instinct that the boy had deserted after finding out just who - or what - was leading the ShinRa forces. If he had left the company, it was no-one's fault but Strife's own, and placing blame elsewhere was not only pointless but stupid. Stupidity was not something he tolerated in anyone, least of all himself.

He stopped his pacing across the carefully polished wooden floors of the mansion's library for just long enough to shoot Zack a look where he lounged, sitting against the wall with his buster sword beside him. He was entirely too calm for the situation they were in - but then, this was Zack Fair, and whatever else happened, the man never lost his grin or his - often unwarranted - sense of optimism.

"You know, Seph, if you keep on scowling so hard your face is going to freeze like that," the captain's voice began, interrupting his friend's silent soliloquy. "It's good to know that you're worried about Spike - God knows I am - but there's no sense wearing a hole in the floor with your pacing, princess."

The General ignored the jibe expertly - it was not the first time that Zack had used that particular epithet - and also the implication that he was anything more than simply concerned for the well-being of the company. The guilt prickled uncomfortably in his stomach, but he ignored it, rounding on Zack with a sharp look in his eye.

"Has Strife deserted?" Sephiroth shot the question at the other man with a cold fire in his voice, frown deepening again as he continued pacing across the floor rather than listen to his friend's advice. Zack, though not always completely rational, knew the other captain much better than he himself did, and had a better idea of where the blonde might be at the moment.

The dark-haired man watched him quietly, smile still in place likely because it hadn't yet had time to fade away, and stretched a leg out before responding.

"Nah, he hasn't deserted," he informed the other with a certainty likely born of his incorrigible optimism. "He just needs his time. Your revelation was pretty much a total shock to the system for him, you know. He couldn't just take news like that without doing anything at all." He paused then, giving his sword an absent rub that left smudges across the steel.

It was quite true, that Strife couldn't have taken news like that without doing anything - but the fact that Sephiroth hadn't instantly found himself guarding against the captain's fury-strengthened sword was almost incomprehensible to him.

"I do not have your confidence that he will return," Sephiroth responded after a moment, taking a few steps forward and glancing at the children they were guarding out of the corner of his vision rather than meet Zack's gaze.

"Take it from me, he's coming back," Zack replied quietly, and there was an overtone of - something - in his voice that Sephiroth couldn't quite lay his finger on. He didn't dwell on it, however, knowing that the chance of him figuring it out with his limited experience was almost nonexistent. "What makes you think he won't?" he asked then, standing up.

"I am… surprised, to say the least, that he did not attempt to injure me," he finally admitted, crossing his arms in what likely came off as a defensive position, though it was not intended as such. By "injure," he of course meant "kill" - he could see why the blonde, upon seeing what his general was, what he'd done -

The captain blinked, and the blank look interrupted Sephiroth's train of thought.

"Why in _hell_ would you think he was going to attack you?" Zack asked, like the very suggestion didn't make any sense at all. "Cloud would never do something like that." This stirred up the unwelcome guilt again, and it bit unflinchingly.

"He killed a man for the same offense not even a day before," the general pointed out sharply, turning slightly just for the reprieve that came with movement.

"That was some murderer off of the streets who probably did that sort of thing for a living," the captain responded, voice incredulous as if he couldn't understand why he even had to explain such things to the other man. "He wasn't _you." _This was, of course, the most nonsensical thing that Zack had said all evening, but it was quickly pushed to the back of Sephiroth's consciousness as the other man continued. "He doesn't hate you, and he'll forgive you. I did, after all, didn't I?"

The truth of this last statement did not go unnoticed, though it was hardly proof that the blonde wouldn't hate him with every thread of his being - Zack was, after all, an extremely forgiving and also a rather illogical person. Sephiroth only hoped that this event wouldn't destroy a promising career - or hurt the blonde beyond recompense.

"He has not… been informed of the whole situation," the general finally murmured after a long moment. Perhaps he could - no, that was too much to hope, but maybe it would be enough to convince the blonde not to leave the company. "That should be remedied."

"…And that is something you should do yourself," the captain chided gently, and Sephiroth was jolted for a moment by just how well the other man read his intentions. "If it's important enough to you that you really want things explained to him, you should tell him on your own. It's not that I don't want to help, but I also suspect you're not going to need help as much as you think you are. Spike's a sweet kid. He's not going to bite your head off."

Perhaps not, but he still didn't want to see the pain, the accusation, in those eyes.

Their conversation was interrupted by the harsh brassy cry of the household telephones as they jumped in their cradles. He wrote it off as unimportant for the moment, as one of the boys - he could never remember their names - ran towards it instinctively and picked it up. His initial analysis was proven incorrect as the brunette took the phone off of his ear and covered it.

"He says it's for the General Sephiroth," the child informed them, with a nod towards the phone that indicated that the general should come over and pick it up, which he did with little relish.

Their conversation was short, and Sephiroth did little but grunt in response - he would _never_ be lowered to say 'sir' to Heidegger - but his face was stonier even when he put the receiver down than it had been when he had walked over.

"So, what was that about?" his friend asked as the general swept back over to the other side of the library.

"We've been ordered by ShinRa to leave and cease to guard the children," he informed the other without preface, keeping his voice low so that said children would not hear and panic. "ShinRa's information was incorrect - the man we are after was not, in fact, a member of the Organization; his name is Vincent Valentine and he was a former Turk. Therefore, we have no further reason to assist this family." He paused then, giving a look to where the two boys were compiling stacks of books on the other side of the room.

"In fact," he continued, voice level, ignoring the look of shock that was beginning to grow on Zack's face, "doing so would be counterproductive to ShinRa's interests, because we are now attempting to form an alliance with the Organization."

"But we can't just _leave _these guys," Zack protested, blue eyes wide. "Seriously. I mean, somebody would just walk in here and _kill_ them and it would be our fault."

"Not quite, there is still -" He stopped in mid-sentence, gaze growing distant and cold as several things all came together at once. Heidegger had said that ShinRa, as a measure of goodwill, would help the Organization to find a rogue assassin who had been plaguing them for some time - a rogue assassin who had been in the employ of the very family they were guarding. He remembered a shock of red hair and the enigmatic man who came with it, who was almost never actually at the mansion but away on "business" - strange for a bodyguard, but not for an assassin.

The only logical conclusion was that the Rogue had not yet left the family's employ. They had been working with him for their time at the mansion, and all they had to do in order to fulfill ShinRa's orders would be to wait there until the man returned.

Considerations flew through his head like arrows; such an act would make him not simply a soldier but a traitor - it would lead to the children's deaths and Zack's inevitable disappointment, possibly his hatred. This was not a decision to be made in a split instant.

Recovering his presence of mind, he realized that Zack was still waiting for the end of his earlier sentence. He began instead on a new subject, while he considered the merits of both courses.

"In any case, Strife will need to be informed of this new development," Sephiroth noted, crossing his arms as the fiery look was replaced by one that was distant, and calculating.

"That damn Heidegger," Zack muttered, standing up finally and putting his sword back on his back because there was nothing else to do with his excess energy.

"These orders actually come straight from the vice president. But that is of no consequence," he began, giving Zack a meaningful look. "because with the ending of your current mission, as of this moment you are considered to be on leave. Your actions, so long as they do not directly contradict company policy, are your own." He paused then, watching the other man. "As long as there is no sign of ShinRa company involvement, I see no reason why you couldn't stay."

The captain's eyes lit up at that, and he took a few steps forward in excitement.

"Thanks, man! You _rock_," he exclaimed, and the childishness of it was almost enough to make Sephiroth smile. "So you're off to find Spike, right?" he continued, with hardly a beat in between, before taking a set of keys out of his pocket and tossing them effortlessly to the general.

"I begged a copy of his keys off him probably six months ago," he continued with his easy grin. "Not that I'm advocating you barging into his apartment or anything, but if he's not answering and you think he's in there, this'll get you in, ok?" Taking an old piece of paper out of his pocket - possibly some kind of grocery list - he trotted over to a table, snatched a pen, and began to scribble out something on the crumpled material.

"…You're trusting me with these?" he asked, mildly surprised.

"Um, yeah?" Zack responded as he straightened and shoved the paper at Sephiroth's chest. "Why wouldn't I? It's for a good cause, right?"

Sephiroth shook his head rather than answer, taking the paper rather awkwardly.

"Until I return, then," he said with a nod, and turned out the door and into the entryway, hoping that the Rogue would not appear. This time, at least, his actions would be based on logic rather than instinct - and whatever the outcome, they would be his responsibility, and his alone.

XXX

"Is that so," Marluxia commented, smirk growing triumphant as he stood from his desk. His gaze focused intently on the messenger before him, harsh scrutiny never wavering despite his feeling of impending victory. "You're certain."

"Yes sir," responded the man, never wavering an inch even against Marluxia's steel. He was probably a Turk, judging by his posture and uniform - and his eyes were as unflinchingly self-confident as any Marluxia had ever seen. Sending a Turk to bring this information either meant that ShinRa was really serious about their offer of alliance, or that they had something to gain by making the Organization think so. Either could be manipulated to the assassin's purposes.

"The Vice President authorized this, then." A pause. "Is this a coup in the making?" The vice president of any corporation would not have the authority to command something so immense, without special power to back him up.

"If it is or if it is not, I don't believe that it is any of your concern," the dark-haired man responded. "The company will deal with company business." This was, of course, a more polite way of telling Marluxia to fuck off - and the intent was hardly veiled.

"Alright, then tell Rufus that I accept his offer, with the stipulations discussed. I look forward to working with you," he said with an inclination of his head as he sat back down, pretending to sign something just so that the Turk would leave and real work could be done.

"Likewise," the man responded, turning smartly on his heel to walk out the door with all of the precision of a professional, leaving an echoing silence behind him. The reverberation of triumph was, however, interrupted momentarily by the creak of the doors, re-opening to reveal Axel, as he rudely took a casual bite out of an apple as he walked in.

"That was Tseng," he noted with his usual gleaming insight, though this time the delivery was hindered by the mouthful of apple he hadn't quite finished chewing yet. "So, what, is ShinRa dealin' with us again?" he asked as he finished swallowing, covering the distance between them in what seemed like half a second.

Marluxia felt his smile turn almost instantly into a frown as the redhead walked up the steps to where his desk was positioned and sat himself comfortably on the edge, chewing as he looked over the paperwork without permission and smirking like anything.

Axel was one of his best operatives, but he could be damn infuriating sometimes.

"Axel," the elder began in what he hoped was a calm manner, "Get off my desk."

The other assassin then proceeded to ignore the order in favor of thumbing through the stacks of information with a clearly feigned interest.

"I would if you asked nicely," he responded, and the creases in Marluxia's forehead grew even deeper at the condescending tone. "So where's my girl Larxene? Doesn't she usually hang out up here nowadays?"

"She's out on assignment."

"Anything to do with this Rogue, by chance?" Axel asked, tone sly. So this was why he had come.

"No," Marluxia lied, sitting down in his chair and proceeding to re-organize all of the files that the other man had strewn about.

"We both know you're lying," the redhead replied, stretching languorously and taking another bite out of his apple. "And you didn't answer my question earlier. Is ShinRa dealin' with us again?"

"They will assist us in the search for the Rogue, yes," he responded, words measured carefully. "In return, we are to help them find a man they themselves are searching for."

"Ah, good, good," the man responded, finishing the apple with relish and setting the core down on a stack of papers, irreverent as always. "So I came up here when I heard about us losing Zexion - nasty one, that."

Marluxia knew that there was no love lost between Axel and the newly deceased, so the fact that the regret in his voice was at least partially feigned was no surprise.

"But in any case, that asshole needs to get what's coming to him," the redhead continued, giving the apple core an experimental twirl. "The Rogue, I mean. I'm volunteering to help out." There was a long, pregnant silence. "I know I can get that son of a bitch," he intoned, grin blade-sharp.

Something about the confidence, the intensity with which the other assassin spoke made an impression on Marluxia - he had never really considered having Axel assist them, but on second thought, it seemed wise. He was skilled, no doubt about it, and though he was a little bit flaky he would get the job done if it needed to be done.

"…You're sure, then."

"One hundred fuckin' percent," the redhead responded vehemently.

"Alright, then." A split second, and he had decided exactly how he would use this to his advantage. "You will help Larxene as she attempts to discover just what Xemnas's syndicate knows that we do not - you have more skill in subterfuge than she." But, when options were limited, what was available limited his ability to make the correct tactical choice.

"What, so ShinRa and the crazy-eyed bastard are both after this guy now, too? And we haven't been able to find him yet," he noted, half incredulous and half mocking, as he stood up smoothly from the desk and tossed the apple core into a wastebasket.

"…With your - and their - assistance, I'm sure that we can bring this to a swift end," the elder responded, and their eyes locked for a moment with an intensity that burned.

"Yeah," he agreed, expression razor-sharp in its focus - a smile so dangerous and feral that it almost made Marluxia doubt his decision. But the moment passed silently - they continued on as before, striding purposefully towards their respective destinies.

XXX

"I am going to leave soon," Vincent informed his caretaker quietly that afternoon - he had encroached upon the blonde Soldier's hospitality for far longer than he had ever intended, and he was quite capable of keeping himself out of trouble. He saw Yuffie freeze for a second, then continue on with cleaning the wound on his shoulder as if nothing had ever happened.

"Where are you going to go?" she asked, and the tinge of regret in her usually light voice was almost enough to make him reconsider. They hadn't known each other for long, perhaps, but there was something about the experience of having one's life saved that created a bond between the two, and he felt its tug in that moment. "You know ShinRa's probably turning the city upside-down to find you." Another pause. "You're good - really good, even - but there are a buncha Turks, not just one. If they find you, you know they're going to kill you."

"That is why I would prefer not to be seen. I will leave the city, for a short while at least," he responded, giving a passing look to his clothing - though it had been cleaned to the best of their combined ability, it was still rather bloodstained. Even without the cuts and stains, however, his ensemble was still… rather distinctive, to say the least.

"And do what?" she asked, with more than a little bit of force behind her words as her brown eyes flew up to meet his. "You don't have any viable skills except for killing people -"

"I -" he began, not quite sure how to respond, but she didn't give him that luxury.

"You were a Turk, killing people is what you _did, _dammit, don't argue with me," she shot back - and Vincent thought it a good piece of advice, so wisely did not respond.

"So," she continued, stabbing her finger violently at the air in front of his collar, "you have no source of income outside of a city - that's the only place where killing people would be particularly useful - and inside the city, ShinRa's going to pin your ass to the wall and leave your corpse hanging there as an example." There was another pause, during which she jabbed at his wound for a potent emphasis. "Are you _not seeing _the problem here?"

She did have a valid point, it was true - but he had thought of these things already, and he could not stay any longer. The place did not belong to him - or Yuffie, even - and he could neither stay there nor keep the girl away from her own life. She was not obligated in any way to help him, and she had nonetheless - but he would not allow himself to take advantage of her kindness any longer.

"Yuffie," he began gently, "You have been more than generous - but you have your own life, and have spent enough of it helping me."

"That's a dumbassed reason," she countered, eyes narrowing. "Did you think for even two seconds that I'd be helping you if that's not exactly what I _wanted _to do? You've probably had a lot of experience being a goddamn martyr, but you _don't_ need to be one anymore, do you hear me? I am going to be _pissed_ with you if you get yourself killed just because you haven't got a _clue_ how to accept an offer of help!"

Rather taken aback by this, Vincent paused for a long moment, mind working quickly as he attempted to come up with some kind of response.

"Yuffie, I…" He didn't know quite how he was going to finish that sentence - I had no intention of being a martyr? I didn't know you felt so strongly? - but luckily, he was never given the opportunity to. Their conversation was interrupted by a precise rap on the door - and both of them froze then, barely daring to breathe as instinctive chills coursed down his spine in waves. A few moments of petrified thought were all it took for him to come to the correct conclusion - if the person on the other side of the door had to knock, then they were not Cloud Strife, and therefore a problem.

There was another sharp rap, and he heard Yuffie's breathing turn shallow as her eyes darted from side to side, searching for a path of escape. The only real options at this point would either be to fight the man at the door if this proved necessary, or break the window and leave - it did not open, and had not opened since the building's conception.

"Strife, open the door. I know you're in there," came a cold silver voice from behind the wood - and Vincent's throat went dry, because he recognized that voice. He knew then, with the cold certainty of the resigned, that if it came down to a fight - and likely, it would - neither he, nor the girl who had once saved his life, would survive the encounter.

XXX

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Sephiroth gave a huff that would have been frustration from anyone else, and knocked on the door sharply. In any other situation, with any other captain who had abandoned their duty, his course of action would have been clear - he simply would have taken the door down in one slash, and dragged the man - physically if need be - back to headquarters. If he resisted, he would have been killed.

Somehow, this time, it was different.

He took out the brass key that Zack had entrusted to him - carefully, ensuring that he didn't make any sort of warning noise - and inserted it into the keyhole.

The figure he found as the door swung open was most definitely that of Cloud Strife, nor was the one next to it. It took only a moment for Sephiroth to recognize the delicate, feminine features - because, he thought with more than a hint of irony, he never could manage to forget a face.

Life would be so much easier for him if he could.

"Vincent Valentine," he began, as much to make the scene real as anything else. "I would ask what your purpose is in General Strife's dwelling, but that seems to be apparent enough. The streets are not safe for Professor Hojo's assassin." Sephiroth remembered, with a clarity dulled none by time, that man - he remembered seeing that dark head clasped to the examination table, that mouth stretched in screams of horror that trailed off hoarsely into an agonized silence. He remembered his own screams, he remembered when they both learned to bite their tongues, though it drew blood.

He had not made the connection until he saw that face - in Hojo's laboratory, he had never learned this Valentine's name. He had never heard it, in fact, until Heidegger's arrogant call, when it was given as an enemy's. They had never been friends, before, never spoken - but he remembered. There was a certain degree of empathy that came from this realization - there were many days when he would have killed Hojo himself, given the chance - but he suppressed it. This man was an enemy.

"General Sephiroth," the dark-haired man said, hand moving slowly to his waist, where his weapon would be, "It's been a long time."

"I'm surprised you remember."

"I have forgotten nothing about those years," Valentine said coldly, tone conveying his hatred that even Sephiroth could not miss, even if his words did not. The girl next to the other man straightened, and the General saw her go for some kind of weapon - but he paid no heed. She was of no consequence.

"So," the former Turk intoned, hand grasping the hilt of his gun, "Are you here to kill Hojo's murderer? For the good of ShinRa?"

There was a moment when Sephiroth contemplated saying yes - until the realization came, with all the force of a lance, of just where they were. If Cloud was housing this man, it meant that either the man was a traitor, or that he had no knowledge of this man's transgression. Either way, this Vincent Valentine was probably the blonde general's friend.

The thought of Strife knowingly betraying them twisted his gut in an uncomfortable way, but even this was mediated as he realized the crime that the captain would have committed, even assuming the worst. Aiding and abetting the murderer of a man who got some twisted delight from inflicting pain on others did not seem, upon reflection, like such a sin, especially given the treatment that Cloud - _all _of the officers - had received from that hand.

"Well, _whoever _he is, General or not, he'd better explain himself if he knows what's good for him!" the - decidedly feminine - young boy who had been standing next to Valentine interjected unexpectedly, and Sephiroth's attention widened suddenly to include him, previously a nonentity in his mind. As he spoke, he put his hands on his hips in what was surely intended to be a determined manner, and stood up to his full, even if less than imposing, height.

"You can't just come _barging _into Cloud's place like this!" he continued, fuming. "Where did you get that key? Did you steal it? Threaten it off of him? I know for a fact that Spike would never give you one in a million years, 'cause he only gave one to his best friend about six months ago. So whatever you may be doing here, this is breaking and entering, mister!" he informed the other with a fierce look that was probably more than half for show, if the shaky hand hovering around where his weapon was probably hiding was any indicator.

Hardly pausing for breath in what was surely a remarkable feat of endurance, the boy continued, his gaze hardening.

"Listen, Mister General or _whoever _the hell you are, if you're here to kill Vincent then you're going to have to get through me first," he finished, a strength in his stance that said he was completely serious.

"Yuffie," Valentine began, probably intending to calm the younger, before drifting off - and then, as Sephiroth took a breath to respond, the thought came - a memory, back from his days in the Chinese campaign, of a woman nurse he had met with the same name. And, once he knew what to look for, he could see a gentle slope that might indicate a possibility of breasts.

So that, then, presented him with another problem, another angle to consider. If he performed his duty to the company, he would not only be killing a possible friend of Strife's - but someone unrelated, an innocent. A young girl, someone who was certainly at least a good friend of his, if not… _If not a lover, _a voice whispered to him, and Sephiroth's expression flattened, stoic, though his mind was in turmoil.

By letting this man go, he would be a traitor to the Company - and they were his only purpose in the world. Without ShinRa, he was unsure as to how he would survive - he was a soldier, he was _born_ a soldier, and he didn't know how to be anything different.

But at the same time he could not, _would_ not, commit such a sin again.

XXX

When it seemed like the only place left in the city to wander seemed to be back the way he had come, Cloud decided that he had avoided confrontation long enough. Time, in this case, did not seem to be particularly effective at allowing him to gather his thoughts - though it had been not quite unexpected. He was quite as painfully bewildered in that moment - wandering through the streets, scenery floating past in disconnected patches - as he had been when he was standing at Sephiroth's feet, and praying that he might wake up.

He turned against the wind, back towards the way from which he had come, after a moment of quiet deliberation. The rhythmic, almost painful, convulsions of his heart as it stomped against his delicate collarbone were difficult to ignore - but the terror that fueled them was worse. He knew it was inevitable, really - because with every breath, he was a few steps closer to betraying one of them. It was only a matter of time, now, before he had to choose which.

The intense dread that gripped his whole body made the journey unbelievably short, as it often will if left to its own devices. So, before he realized quite what had happened, he was standing inside the mansion with his back to the door and a key in hand - enveloped within moments by its distant, unaffecting warmth.

"Oh, Cloud! You're back," came a voice from somewhere to his left, and the blonde startled at this sudden interruption - a quick glance revealed the speaker to be Sora, giving the captain a shaky smile as he stopped ineptly sawing at a rather stale-looking loaf of bread. "I'm happy to see that you're ok," he continued, taking a step or two forward, wide blue eyes focused on Cloud's own.

The blonde almost cringed at the honesty in that childish expression - he had deserted his responsibilities as a guardian, he suddenly remembered. Of course Sora didn't hold a grudge for the abandonment, but that didn't make it any less appalling on his part.

"Where is everyone?" Cloud asked, pretending that none of this bothered him. "Shouldn't you be guarded at all times?"

"Zack's right outside the door," Sora responded, apparently not noticing the blonde's reticence. "Roxas desperately needed a shower, and refused to let us be in there with him, for obvious reasons, so Zack let me come in here and get some food while he watched both doors," he explained, giving a wave to the too-old bread on the countertop. After a moment's silence, the boy took a breath and changed the topic.

"I'm really glad you're back, Cloud. I was… kinda worried about you, you know?" the brunette said quietly, unwittingly prodding the coil of guilt in the soldier's stomach. I mean, you might not have noticed, but I was there when -" he paused then, like he wasn't quite sure what to say, "- when you and Sephiroth… Yeah." Another beat, longer this time.

"…You were," the blonde murmured almost inaudibly to himself.

"I heard the story," Sora told the older man with a hint of sadness. "And I just wanna say… Well, I'm sorry. Are you alright, Cloud?" he asked, though his tone made it clear that he already knew the answer.

"I'm fine," the blonde responded distantly, the words coming easily from his lips after so much practice. Pointedly avoiding Sora's inquisitive gaze, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, "It'll be fine."

"So have you decided what you're going to do, then?" the boy questioned, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the counter.

Cloud was silent for a moment, wondering just why Sora was so curious, so concerned about the well-being of someone who was essentially his expendable bodyguard.

"…Why do you want to know," he muttered, voice full of more annoyance than perhaps he actually felt. Certainly, he was distracted, however - and another person's involvement added an extra layer of confusion to the mix.

"Because I'm concerned about you, Cloud," the brunette responded without any hesitation whatsoever, blue eyes locking with the soldier's own. "Because you're in trouble, and I'd like to help out in any way that I can, even if that's just by helping you think through it. And because friends do this sort of thing for each other, and I'd like to be friends, if you're ok with that," he pronounced firmly, with a quiet confidence born of naiveté rather than arrogance.

The blonde almost laughed then, because it was so absurd, so _straightforward_ - there was nothing else, no outside factors to this decision. It didn't matter that Cloud was his bodyguard, and therefore being paid to be there, or that either of them could be killed at any minute - the only thing that mattered was what they wanted. Simple.

"I don't need your concern," he responded, voice quiet and serious. He didn't - especially not from a boy he'd known for such a short time - but he appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. "But thank you."

"You're welcome," Sora said, like it was nothing at all, and a comfortable silence hung between them for a moment. "So. You didn't answer my question."

That was true, he hadn't.

"I've decided," Cloud murmured, though he wouldn't meet the boy's eyes - he wasn't sure if he liked the way they saw through him. He knew what he would do, and he knew of the weakness that was inherent in that act, of loving Aerith's killer.

"And?" the brunette prompted, silently offering the captain a slice of the bread he had been cutting, which the other man refused with a wave of his hand.

"And… I can't blame him for what he's done," the captain admitted softly, valiantly trying to keep the shame out of his voice, though he knew that he would fail. "I _can't_. She - Aerith, I…" He drifted off then, unable to finish the sentence.

"Cloud," Sora began, and the blonde could feel that crystal gaze on him. "It's ok. You know forgiveness is a good thing, right?"

The soldier knew this, and remembered her gentle, sympathetic nature; but the guilt was natural, he mused, when his love for her was being slowly, inexorably eclipsed by another.

"Yeah, I know," he responded, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he searched for a more subtle way to avoid the boy's gaze.

"I mean, what General Sephiroth did was terrible - but it was also a mistake. And…" he began hesitantly, like this was really where he had been going with the whole conversation all along, but he still didn't quite know how to start. "I guess I wanted to know…. Remember when I said you sounded like you more than just admired the General? Do you still love him?"

This question took Cloud by surprise - he had never expected Sora to put it in those terms, especially not now, not after the admission and everything that had happened.

"Sora," he began slowly, mind still overworking the thoughts - but realized in an instant that that moment was the first time those words had ever fallen from his lips. "You are extraordinary, do you know that?" And he meant it, every word - the boy was perceptive and understanding, despite the environment in which he had been raised. He had an almost preternatural talent with people, it seemed - for understanding them, for understanding their motivations, and still believing that every person had the capability to do good.

"Thanks," Sora responded cheerily, kicking his legs a bit as they dangled, "but again, you never did answer my question. You have a habit of that, don't you?"

The silence that followed was cut abruptly by the creaking of the doorway, swinging open to reveal the General, face stony and imperious as always. Cloud, to his immense relief, caught his words before they escaped his mouth.

"General Sephiroth," he greeted, giving a short salute more out of habit than necessity. "You've returned," he noted tonelessly, face schooled so it revealed nothing. If the General had opened the door just a moment before - he didn't want to think of what that would have meant.

However, it occurred to him as the man acknowledged his greeting with a nod, he couldn't remember hearing the sound of the lock. But he ignored it, and everything it might have meant.

XXX

The fact that the next few hours could quite possibly be the most difficult part of this entire operation did not in the least stop Axel from not just walking, but sauntering into one of the Syndicate's many headquarters, completely and utterly confident. He had been in there more than once before, and no-one questioned his presence there - but then, no-one did in any of the many places where he could wreak havoc if the mood struck him.

Which was precisely the way he was feeling at the moment, though the havoc he would be wreaking was sadly not on the syndicate at hand - no, that was too much trouble even for him. The Organization was together because they had to be, and most of them didn't give a damn one way or another for each other. The Syndicates were a completely different breed - they looked out for their own. The perverse, bizarre kind of loyalty that populated the ranks of the various mobs was endlessly fascinating and repulsive - and so, something to watch at a great distance.

However, it served him well enough at this moment - Larxene was somewhere inside of this building, presumably either going through the mob's files or threatening people for the contents of their memories. All Axel needed to do now was find some sad sop who had enough standing that he could get in to talk to Xemnas, and direct him in Larxene's direction, to find her in the midst of her traitorous activities.

This would, primarily, break the alliance between Marluxia and Xemnas - and this was the most important part. But secondarily, it would also take Larxene wholly out of the picture; that girl was really too much trouble for her own good. She wasn't too smart on her own, but paired up with Marly's sadistic, obsessive-compulsive manipulation - well, that was the dream team from hell. Bringing her to the Organization had been a good idea when he had been ostensibly a part of it, but when he was against it - their union was not something he wanted to have to fight for any longer than he had to.

So, he wouldn't. With her dead and Marluxia following soon afterwards - interrupting that train of thought, a memory flashed unexpectedly through his mind; Zexion's funeral pyre, still warm from the tongues of flame that had consumed the corpse.

_At least,_ he told himself with a kind of bitter amusement, _if they've gotta go, they'll be going together._

With that thought, he pulled a rumpled map out of his jacket pocket - the same one with which Larxene had been provided - and eyed the path from where he was now situated to one of the many file and record rooms. If he knew her at all, that's where she'd go. Questioning people required too much subtlety for her.

The first room he encountered was empty, except for the two guards who assumed that since he had a key, he belong there, and didn't say a word as he quietly excused himself. Shortly down the hallway was another, again empty - but another five minute's walk and he was there, if he could judge by the sounds of shuffling and the occasional frustrated snort from behind the door. His black-gloved hand hesitated above the doorknob for only a moment - half a moment, even less - before inserting Marluxia's stolen key and entering.

What he found inside was unsurprising, to say the least - Larxene unsystematically going through a section of files that appeared to be all of the Syndicate's information on Roxas's family. Two incapacitated guards - possibly dead, actually; he wouldn't put hit past her - decorated the floor with their bodies, though there wasn't enough blood to suggest wholesale murder.

"I see you haven't wasted any time," he noted, enjoying the look on her face as she jumped, startled, and pulled her daggers out of wherever it was she kept them. Her posture relaxed almost instantly as she saw who it was, and her fierce expression turned to one of coy hostility as she straightened. "C'mon, Larx," Axel continued before her knives were away, "You should be paying more attention than that. I coulda walked right up behind you and killed you."

The assassin could and would have, if it had suited his purposes - but if he killed her himself, Xemnas might have been able to come up with proof that his people hadn't done it. That would not only leave the alliance between the Organization and Xemnas's Syndicate intact, but it would cast a shadow on Axel himself.

He couldn't afford that, especially not this late in the game. Not with so many eyes on him.

"You would have had a new asshole before you could blink," she informed him confidently, her smiling veneer making the words more dangerous rather than less. "So, what," she continued, shifting her weight from one foot to another, "Marluxia send you here too?" she asked - and those words, the redhead noted with a silent vindication, would have sounded her death knell if it hadn't already been tolling frantically against the coming day.

"Yeah," he responded, crossing his arms and leaning with a false carelessness against the nearest filing cabinet. His words were true even as they were lies - because his having been summoned there had nothing to do with the reason he actually was. "But listen, Sparky," he went on, giving her a quiet laugh as she winced at the old nickname, "I jus' came to check out how things were goin' on your end before I went and got things done _my_ way," he informed her, grin very nearly cutting his lips as he struggled to keep it in.

"Oh?" she asked, visibly straightening at the information. "What is it, exactly, that you will be doing?"

"None of your business," Axel lied smoothly, uncrossing his arms and pushing himself up off of the wall easily. "This shit is too subtle for you anyway. You keep blasting away an' doing your thing."

"Fuck off," she shot back, tossing a file onto the table, unconcerned. "You should learn not to insult your comrades. Not the smartest thing I've ever heard."

_Comrades?_ he thought silently. _Prey,_ he corrected with a bitter amusement.

"…You need that lesson worse'n me," he informed her with a short, false laugh and a pointed glance towards the men on the floor as he opened the door. Then, with one quick, enigmatic glance over his shoulder, he melted away as if he had never been.

XXX

Frozen mid-motion, one black-gloved hand on the doorknob of the servant's entrance of the Mansion, Sephiroth leaned his head gently on the cold metal frame, concentrating primarily on regulating his breathing - not a difficult task for the General, in another situation. But the words drifting out from the space where the door had been left slightly ajar made it increasingly difficult to breathe.

_I can't blame him for what he's done - _the words replayed themselves in his head, Cloud's voice soft and almost ashamed. Mind still reeling from the sheer absurdity of it, he was unable to finish his motion and open the door, or even properly comprehend the rest of what they were saying.

At least, until a moment later, when one of the boy's questions pierced through the haze.

"Remember when I said you sounded like you more than just admired the General?" the boy asked, voice calm even as the general's thoughts went blank. A pause. "Do you still love him?"

_What in all the hells?_ the man's mind responded, quite incapable of anything more coherent. _The child is not in full possession of his senses._

"Sora… You are extraordinary, do you know that?" came Cloud's response, and the fact that he did not deny it outright struck something inside the General. Love - it wasn't possible, but… He had never even _spoken_ to the blonde before a week past.

"Thanks, but you never answered my question," the boy noted, and slowly Sephiroth realized that whatever the answer might have been, he did not want to know. He did not want to think about the implications such a statement would have.

So, instinctively, he opened the door and stepped into the building, giving a careful glance to both Cloud and the child.

The blonde greeted him with a salute, but the general paid no attention - he would deal with what he had heard later, on his own time. He was not adept enough with people to consider something in such a short period - and in any case, he had a purpose.

"Cloud," he began, voice rumbling, "I have been out looking for you. We have important instructions from the Company," he noted tonelessly.

The blonde did not say anything, waiting for him to continue - ever the perfect subordinate. He took a deep breath, meeting the captain's gaze in what was almost a challenge, though he wasn't sure for what purpose.

"We have been ordered to abandon our posts here," Sephiroth informed the other curtly, military breeding showing its purpose. "ShinRa will no longer concern itself with the affairs or the fortune of this family."

"What?!" the child exclaimed, blue eyes wide. "I… you…"

"Sora, let me deal with this," Cloud murmured, glancing at the child and then turning to face the General. "We are ordered to leave these children to be killed, then?" he said, and the quality of his voice was strained.

"Yes," Sephiroth replied, closely watching the other for a reaction, though he didn't quite know what he was looking for. "But secondarily, upon visiting your living area, I encountered a wanted man using it as an infirmary.

His name was Vincent Valentine," Sephiroth continued, then paused, watching as the blonde's face grew pale. "And young girl with him, dressed like a man and presumably an accomplice. He is wanted for the murder of Professor Hojo," he informed the other clinically. "Do you know this man?"

"What did you do to them," Cloud asked, and the other was surprised to hear the blonde's voice shake with what might have been anger, fear - accusation.

The General repressed his urge to give only a half-answer to the question and watch the response - with anyone else, he realized, he would have.

"They have not been harmed," Sephiroth said, pretending that he was not attempting to reassure the other man. "I am not a man without pity - I would not knowingly kill those that a comrade considers friends, nor would I leave this family entirely without protection." He paused then, giving a glance to the door. "If you walk to the door, you will understand."

Silently, with a furtive glance at Sephiroth that he might not have noticed had he not been looking, Cloud did as asked - and within an instant, two very different figures had materialized at his side.

The blonde gave a look from one side to another - to Valentine, then to the girl Yuffie - and turned back around, a look of shock on his face. It struck Sephiroth in that moment how very _young_ the captain was, certainly not older than his early twenties.

"What is this?" Cloud asked, uncertain.

"They are to be the family's guardians in our absence," the general informed the other - a rare, almost undetectable hint of a smile gracing his lips. "We are required back at ShinRa headquarters before five o'clock this evening." He gave a nod then, to both Valentine and the girl, as he took a step towards the door.

"If we are to arrive on time," Sephiroth noted, meeting Cloud's gaze properly for the first time, "I suggest we leave now," he continued, with hardly any of his usual coldness.

But the blonde did not move, did not take a step one way or another.

"Sephiroth," Cloud began, tasting his words before he spoke, "I'm not leaving," he continued, voice resolute.

Sephiroth stopped them, giving the other a searching glance.

"What do you mean?" he asked, though he was sure that he knew, already - this had been his fear all along. Clearly the man had rethought his earlier words - he did blame the general for Aerith's death, and would not serve under him. "If this has anything at all to do with me," he continued, words awkward, "I ask that you -"

"It has nothing to do with you, Sephiroth," Cloud said, cutting off the other's words with a small smile. "I'm sorry that it took me so long to come to this conclusion, but I don't blame you at all for what happened. It wasn't your fault, and I'm sorry that I made you feel like I thought it was, " he said, words earning questioning looks from both of those next to him.

_Then why else would he…_

"I just can't leave this family. Sora - and Roxas too; neither of them deserve to die. They're too young."

So that was it.

"You realize that you will die, one way or another - at least if you lose, you will die in battle. But if you win, you will be put on trial for desertion, then executed," the general stated, emotionless.

The blonde shrugged casually - judging from the look on his face, he appeared completely at peace with this fate. Unflinching, he met Sephiroth's gaze - and after a moment it was the General who broke it.

"So be it, then," he said, voice thick with an emotion he couldn't quite comprehend, and forcefully he strode through the three guardians onto the street, where he could feel Cloud's gaze piercing his back long after the mansion had evaporated into the distance.

XXX

XXX

1) I want to apologize for the _terrible, terrible_ lateness of this chapter. I really do work on this fic every single day, I promise - but this chapter fought me like nothing I've ever written before, and I actually had to start from scratch several times.

2) In response to many comments about Axel's lack of morality: I urge you to consider the fact that the majority of things that he has done in this fic, _he did in canon._ He was either directly or indirectly responsible for the deaths of the majority of those who were in Castle Oblivion. For some reason, we forget that about him. This fic is, essentially, a way for me to attempt to explain the motivation behind his actions.

Comment if you liked, it makes me immeasurably happy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

There was an uncomfortable, waiting silence in the air as Cloud watched Sephiroth's retreating back with some form of wistful regret. It was not so much, he supposed, that he wished he hadn't done what he had done, but that -

_Well, there had never been a chance of that anyway_, he admonished himself, forcing himself to turn around to face his new comrades. _Get a hold of yourself. Pining about him or about - about Aerith… None of it is going to help you keep these boys alive. You have a job to do._

So, he pushed all other thoughts to the back of his mind and took a deep breath before attending to the business at hand. He would deal with the rest later.

"Yuffie," he began with a nod in her direction, followed by another towards the dark-clad man beside her. "Vincent." Another pause. "I'm not quite sure why you're here, but I'm glad you are," he said, eyes passing over Sora's distantly contemplative face as his gaze swept the room.

"The General suggested it," Vincent informed the blonde, carefully watching. "I agreed. It was a worthy cause, and -" His words broke off for a moment, replaced by what might have been a tiny smile, if uncertain. "I did not have anywhere else that I could go."

"Yep!" Yuffie agreed brightly, shifting from one foot to the other restlessly, "He barged in on your apartment and we thinking he's gonna kill us, but he ends up telling us that we can come here and hide out while doing something useful!"

Her summary of the situation seemed entirely too cheery - bringing up the question as to whether Sephiroth had discussed the family's situation in its entirety, or if he hadn't seen fit to give the new guardians that information. It was important for them to know just what they had gotten into - he wouldn't have them risking their lives without having consented to it, knowingly, first.

"…Are you aware that we are being hunted by an organization of assassins - and god knows who else - who are determined, for whatever reason, to kill this family?"

"Yes," Vincent replied, solemn as ever, and Yuffie gave a nod of affirmation.

"Are you aware that there's every possibility that you might die?" Cloud questioned, not quite believing that they would know this and still have agreed.

"Yes," the dark-clad man responded again.

"I always figure that if the situation's taking a quick tumble downhill, I can always take all the valuables and leave you guys to your own devices," she told them with a mischievous grin. The soldier knew that, a few years back, she might have done just that - but she had grown a lot since then, and was as fond of him as he was of her. _At least as fond, _he corrected himself with an internal smile. He had no worries about her deserting them when they needed her the most.

"That's good, then," Cloud murmured, not quite sure what else to say - but something else occurred to him, and he lifted his eyes to meet Vincent's. "One more thing - Vincent, I know that this is what ShinRa wants you for, but, did you really kill Professor Hojo?"

He could see the other man tense slightly, then give a sharp nod, crimson eyes piercing over the collar of his coat.

"I did," he affirmed, perfectly still and poised to move should he need it. It was the stance of a bred soldier, a man who had fought for all of his life - movement that could only be properly seen and understood by another of the same.

Cloud took made a pace forward, then another, until he had crossed the distance between them - and still Vincent stood, immobile.

"Good," the blonde responded, putting a hand Vincent's shoulder as he walked past, "That conniving son of a bitch needed to die."

A man with both strength and the good sense to use it right - maybe, with his help, this suicide mission might not end in disaster.

**XXX**

"Normally," Roxas muttered to his brother, careful that the blonde man in the corner of their darkened bedroom didn't hear him, "I would ask you why in hell you cared so much about this guy. But I guess, what I really ought to be saying is thank you, isn't it?" Growing fond of one's bodyguards had never seemed like a particularly good plan until Sora effortlessly proved him quite wrong.

The brunette had told him the story, quietly, after the fact - about ShinRa's orders, and the soldier's refusal to follow them for, essentially, Sora's sake. It was amazing - Sora's habit of befriending everyone and everyone he met had proven itself to be a good thing before, but now it had potentially saved their lives.

"I guess," the brunette responded with a shrug as he snuggled deeper down into the covers that they were currently both forced to share, "But it seems to me like you should be thanking Cloud. He's the one who's sacrificing his career and putting his life in danger for our sake," he told his brother with a sincerity that made Roxas smile - it was his brother's best trait, even though it was going to get the kid into real trouble someday.

"But you're the reason he stayed."

"Nah. Cloud's just a good guy like that." A pause. "You know, I think Zack is staying too - and even though I like him and I've talked to him, it wasn't very much. So that wasn't entirely me," Sora pointed out, determined as always to make his friends look like heroes. Although he was hardly adverse to taking credit where credit was due, he tended to feel in most cases like credit was due other places.

But his last statement about Zack was more than a little bit surprising - two of ShinRa's best deserting, just for this? It seemed more than a little bit out of character.

"So Zack's leaving ShinRa too?" Roxas asked, unable to keep the incredulousness out of his voice. Apparently he hadn't been keeping his words quiet enough, because Cloud gave a quick glance over to them - but after a moment of silence, he went back to whatever it was he had been doing.

"No, actually I think that he's on temporary leave right now," Sora corrected, voice a whisper. "Cloud wasn't, though, and ShinRa wanted him for some other kind of mission, so he had to directly disobey orders in order to leave." Sora's voice grew even quieter after this. "Actually, I overheard Sephiroth and Zack talking - the company wanted Cloud and the General both to help in hunting a man called the Rogue. He's an assassin who kills other assassins, apparently." A pregnant silence fell over them after those words. "I think… Roxas, I think they might be after the man our dad hired, just like the Organization is."

Roxas could feel himself growing pale at those words, as all the blood pooled from his face into his body. It was a cold terror, a quiet terror, that accompanied that statement, that idea, but the horror was no less potent for that.

Fuck. _Fuck._ That was Axel - Axel they were after, the one ShinRa was out to kill. The one Sephiroth was out to kill.

_Shit, Sephiroth - that man was terrifying enough as a _friend;_ as an enemy, he would be - _the blonde stopped that thought there, not wanting to follow where it led. He couldn't panic, not now - for Sora's sake. Later, when Axel was back, he would panic and rant at his lover, and probably be angry and accuse the redhead of things he'd never had any control over - but for now, he would be calm.

"You… you think so?" Roxas managed to say, voice only a mumbled croak.

"I hope they're not as vengeful as the Organization is," Sora said, only a slight tremble in his warm voice. "Otherwise we could be in some real trouble."

This added another dimension to their troubles; the possibility of not only being attacked indirectly, as they went after Axel, but directly also - it was frankly terrifying. A thought came, unbidden, of Axel, meeting death with that dangerous grin still on - he would create hell on earth as he died, but it was still _death, _and that twisted his gut in a way he could hardly even comprehend, much less name.

"But we shouldn't worry to much," Sora told the other with a laugh, "That's just silly. If we worry so much that we don't do anything, then our lives won't mean anything at all." He paused, and Roxas could feel his eyes widen. "And that's the important part, isn't it - our lives?"

What the brunette was saying was true, he supposed - but still, his imagination ran unchecked; a tall, dark form stood above Sora's crumpled body, stained with his own blood. That was almost unthinkable - the boy had too much to live for, so much potential left for him. Sora was the kind of boy who would go about life making the world a better place - his indomitable optimism was like a force of nature, seemingly unstoppable and unchangeable no matter the circumstances.

Here they were facing almost certain death, and the boy was still smiling.

"You're an idiot, do you know that?" Roxas muttered, and pulled his brother into a tight, desperate hug. Somehow, Sora understood the elder's wordless request - and they stayed like that, silence never oppressive, until sleep took the younger.

The elder stayed up until the early hours of the morning, unable to calm the racing, humming beat of his heart.

XXX

The syndicate building's hallways were strangely empty of all activity at this time of day - only a few people made their ways across the dim expanse, though those who did stepped smartly. And why shouldn't they - each person were certain in the knowledge that whatever news they were carrying was terribly important, essential to the functioning of the machine that they called master.

Axel wanted to take each and every one of them and show them just how little life conformed to their imposed order. They liked to believe that it did, of course, but they had conditioned themselves to see only what they wanted to see. He wanted to break that damn illusion.

But he wouldn't, not today - _and probably not ever_, he noted with a feeling that was only half bitter. Either he was going to die within the next two days - he couldn't see this confrontation lasting any longer than precisely that amount of time - or…

Well, he hadn't really thought beyond that point - and now was not the time to daydream about a possible future, one way or another. But he would probably never have the opportunity to wreak havoc on these self-absorbed assholes, and he somehow wished that he would.

He swallowed his instinctive revulsion for long enough to put a hand out to stop a man going the other way.

"Uh, hey -" he began, feigning uncertainty with a shifting gaze and stance. "I've been looking for somebody. I, uh -" He paused then, and the man gave him an annoyed look. "I saw somebody break in to one of the record rooms just a minute ago. Took down the guards and everything."

"Then why didn't you do something, you incomparable idiot?!" the man shot back, anger boiling in him until his face turned quite red. "You should have _shot_ him. _That's what we give you guns for._"

Perfect. If he couldn't fuck them over, he could at least make them angry.

"She. It was a woman - and I recognized her. Heard somebody saying she was an important member of the Organization," Axel replied, finding a vindictive sort of pleasure in watching the anger in the man's voice melting away into horror. "So I figured I shouldn't kill her until the Superior had heard about it. Then he could deal with it like he wants, y'know?"

"…Rest assured that I will report your laziness to your superiors," the man said after a moment, evidently trying to maintain a cold, professional face and hide his relief that at least this lackey was not a complete idiot. "But for now, you have made the correct decision. I will inform your superiors of that, too," he told the younger, though it was clear - from one liar to another - that he would take all credit for Larxene's discovery to himself.

This, of course, was precisely what Axel wanted. It was good to know that you could always depend on people to be assholes, no matter what else changed about the world.

XXX

Upon his carven throne, Xemnas took a breath and glanced towards his second in command for an instant before letting his stare fall cold and hard upon the man in front of him.

"You're sure. You saw it yourself," he began, completely unsurprised - Marluxia was not an overly patient man, though he could be when it served his purpose. The idea that he had sent his direct subordinate to rummage through their files was not a huge leap of the imagination.

A shame that it was her, though. She at least seemed interesting, unusual in a world of people who all affected the same manner.

"Absolutely certain," the man said. "I saw her. Record room three," he repeated himself like the idiot he was.

"Is that so," Xemnas murmured, expression growing cruelly pleased. "Then you are dismissed."

He waited for a moment as the man did as asked, and the guards pulled the doors shut from the outside. He preferred to have complete privacy from outside ears when he could manage it.

Saïx, sensing his Superior's mind - the man was born for it, sometimes it seemed - was instantly at his master's side. In part, that was what made him so valuable.

"So would you like to kill her outright or give Marluxia a warning first?" the younger man asked, baritone clear and malevolent. Saïx knew precisely which he himself would prefer - and, at least for this time, it was also what Xemnas intended.

The Organization and the Superior's association might have been allies for the moment, it was true - but they would not show any kind of misplaced leniency towards the other group. Those men could not challenge the Syndicate's power, and they needed to be reminded of that fact. The same fate as was stalking the woman, would befall Marluxia as well, if he did not learn to control his ambition.

The Superior's only regret was that this transgression was not enough of an excuse to go for that man's throat in addition to this girl's. But that was coming - he could feel it, like the taste of metal on the wind.

For now, she would simply die - and if the Organization wanted to break off the alliance, that was their choice. The Superior would not make that move - he could still exploit their many talents, for as long as they would allow him to do so.

"We will kill her," Xemnas informed the other, as if there had ever been any real question. "Or, should I say, _you_ will kill her. I will only watch, this time." This order was met by Saïx's feral grin - as, of course, had been the intent. It was always a good plan to reward one's subordinates from time to time.

"As you command," Saïx responded with a sweeping bow that was more than half-mocking - though he did not have much problem with it in only this one particular case. "May I…" he began, but his superior cut him off.

"Feel free to indulge yourself, as you like," Xemnas suggested, resting his chin on a fist and watching the other man's face, as it was painted in vindictive anticipation.

Even through the pleasure that the knowledge of her impending death brought him, he realized that he was likely, in some way, serving the Rogue's purpose - if the man was intending to destabilize the Organization, or even destroy it, then he was surely watching Xemnas's actions and smiling.

The Superior hated serving another's purpose. Even if it was just that, for a time, their two objectives had coincided, still it left him discomfited. But, he supposed, after all of this was done, and the Rogue had served the Syndicate's purpose, he would die. He, and the family that sheltered him, would writhe in pain - punished for his presumptuousness, for his audacity - and, perhaps more importantly but much more quietly, because he was a threat.

Challenging the Organization, and the Syndicate by proxy, was more than suicide - and it was suicide the man was evidently looking for. The Rogue would receive what he so badly wanted; but not on his own terms. He would only be granted death only after everything he loved had been torn apart, after he had watched everything he had ever worked for collapse.

He would_ scream _for it_, _before the end.

_XXX_

Footsteps fell silently on the roughly paved roadway as Axel made his way out, direction incomprehensible and erratic as he took whatever road he felt would keep any potential trackers off his back. But wherever he went, it was also _away; _he spiraled outward from the Syndicate - or downward, he supposed, might be a better word - and towards his next goal.

Within an hour, both Marluxia and Larxene would be dead, and Axel himself would have larger problems to deal with. He knew that even though, as of right now, ShinRa was probably only searching for him in order to solidify their alliance with the Organization, by the time he had killed both its leaders he would be enough of a threat that they would go after him on their own.

The only thing that kept him from going after President - or Vice-President - ShinRa also, was the knowledge that he would probably die in the attempt. The President never went anywhere without a veritable entourage of fighters, and the Turks - especially the Four Aces - guarded Rufus with their lives. Then, there would be Sephiroth to contend with - and even if Axel did manage to survive the rest of the dangers, he knew that by the end, he would not be able to escape Sephiroth's powerful sword.

He planned on staying alive for the moment.

None of those concerns, he supposed, would have mattered in the least if he had really decided that he had wanted to kill either of those men - but even doing that would probably achieve little but to stir the hornet's nest, and ShinRa was dangerous enough even when they weren't angry. Besides, that kind of stunt would put Roxas in way more danger than the redhead was comfortable with.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that since ShinRa was now siding with the Organization, the children's guards would be gone within the half hour - but if he didn't take this opportunity, he knew that he might not ever have the chance to do so again.

Besides, he had a feeling that Cloud, at least, was not going to leave them to die alone. He was a nice guy like that - a nice enough guy that Axel was willing to bet Roxas's life on it. Not for long, perhaps, but for long enough.

Because, the fact was that if he didn't trust in the blonde soldier and went running back to the mansion, he would never be able to leave because the danger would never abate. In order to kill those two, he would have to do it _now - _and with three major organizations out to carve the fear of god into a person, logic said you'd take at least one of them out of commission before they all managed to get together and fight you all at once.

They'd figure it out pretty quick, that Axel wasn't going to let this be anything less than a fucking war. If he was going to die, then by god he was going to die a _legend_.

He arrived at the Organization's headquarters just in time to see the streetlamps in front turn on, followed like a wave as the rest burned themselves into existence one by one. The incandescence cast a pale, eerie light over the guards who stood, waiting, at the front gate - and Axel passed between them with only a nod of acknowledgment, making his way as always up to the chamber where Marluxia wove his tiny plans against the backdrop of the city.

_I've always wanted to do this_, he thought, grin sharp and unmistakable. _Walk right in the front door and do my hit that way_. And now, to be honest, was the perfect time - this would be his last hit before he returned to the mansion and waited. It didn't matter if they knew who he was anymore - they wouldn't know any better than they did before where he was. If they had already figured out that the Rogue was working with Roxas's family, then he was just as fucked with his identity known as not.

It would take the lackeys at least an hour to find the body, anyway - and that was more than enough time to escape and get where he needed to be. Strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, Axel did not feel nearly the same level of guilt - regret - with regards to Marluxia or Larxene's impending deaths as he had with Zexion - perhaps this was because he had not yet felt their blood on his hands. Perhaps it was because no matter whether they and the redhead had been acquaintances or not - whether they had spoken or even fucked - neither of them had anyone left behind who would miss them.

It was something he never would have cared about, before he met Roxas - he figured it was some kind of empathy that had finally decided to manifest itself, after years of absence, at the most inopportune time. However, it was only an inconvenience, really, because nothing - not his own emotions, no righteous god, nor hell itself - would stop him from saving Roxas's life, whatever it took.

With that in mind, he paused for a hairsbreadth with his hands on the cruel steel doors that were the only barriers between himself and his objective. Between himself and the point at which he could never turn back - the moment of ultimate commitment to this cause. He would never be able to take another hit again, ever, even assuming he survived the whole ordeal - leaving the city really seemed like the only option, and even that wasn't completely safe.

But the memory of Roxas's lips, soft and pliant against his own as the boy relaxed for once in his overly-inspected life, kept Axel's resolve strong. Nothing else could really compare to that rush of adrenaline and something else, a more complex emotion that hung itself halfway between passion and adoration. Not the thrill of the hunt, or of the kill - nor the cascade of power that came with planning and winning without his enemy ever seeing their opponent. Nothing.

In one push, he opened the door - and let the steel slam shut again under its own weight as he walked inside the room, movement casual as always, though his hand hovered always near his knife - the weapon of choice, this time. It wouldn't do to make himself known too early - nor to give himself away with the noise of a pistol - so he kept the gleaming steel under his jacket, for now.

Before him, the sweep of floor led upwards until it culminated in a white staircase and a desk on the dais, where Marluxia sat, back straight and gaze distant as he kept up a slow but constant murmur into the telephone receiver. He quickly glanced over to the intruder and gave the redhead an unhappy look before returning to his conversation.

"Yes," he intoned quietly, eyes flickering up and down like he couldn't decide what to focus on. "Yes. I agree." A pause - some static-filled noise trickled from the other end. "Please. We welcome your cooperation, Mr. Vice-President." There was another long silence as the assassin took the device from his ear and placed it carefully on the cradle.

"I assume, Axel," he began, each word carefully measured, portioned delicately for the precise intended effect, "that you have a good reason for… _gracing_ me with your presence, so soon after being put out on assignment."

If there was any time for the redhead to put his consummate acting talents to use, it was right then - a quick worried look at the door, a shifting of his weight, and the stage was set. The older man took the bait - his back instantly straightened, on alert for anything.

"Listen, Marluxia," Axel started hesitantly, using the other man's full name and getting the reaction he had intended, "I can't find Larxene anywhere." He lowered his voice again, like someone might be listening. "I'm afraid there might be a damn spy in the Organization somewhere. I dunno for _who_," he continued, before the other man could ask that question, "though the "why" is pretty fuckin' obvious, I guess. Too many people after our asses."

There was another pause, a touch longer this time.

"I see," the elder began, voice smoothly covering up any disquietude that may have come from Axel's statement. "Do you think that it's a possibility that the information has come not from internal spies, but from external ones?" he questioned, sharp mind never slowing for an instant.

The redhead shrugged - it wouldn't do to be seen to have too much information.

"Not sure. But either way, she's either dead or in danger," he intoned with all the careful composure that he could muster, "which means that you'n me are prob'ly next in line. You think we should go somewhere more private to discuss our options?" he asked, with a meaningful glance back at the door - guards waited on the other side, whose loyalty was fair enough but whose intelligence was not. It was always a worry that having intelligent human beings as guards was an invitation to a coup - but stupid ones had their own problems. They were more likely to take a bribe, thinking that they would never be caught - and occasionally, a crime lord here or there was taken out simply by being too careless with his own men.

Axel found it amusingly ironic that he was playing on this fear of betrayal to get Marluxia into a more opportune spot for his impending assassination.

"Yes, of course," came the response, as he stood up from his desk and, with a quick motion to follow, headed towards a small door in the back - leading to a small, private room used for extra security. If Marluxia wanted his own private room for double-dealings or backstabbing - or if he needed a quick escape - this room was aptly provided for both.

It was perfect.

Savoring the feeling of triumph that was building in his gut, Axel took the last step slowly into the safe-room, shutting the door and flicking the bolt shut smoothly. The sound echoed across the tiny room, trapped there as his target was, and something in it - something in the sound, something in Axel's face - gave Marluxia the last pieces he needed to put it all together. The redhead saw that moment, the moment when he realized the betrayal, and there was no point anymore in hiding his leonine grin.

He was glad that Marluxia had figured it out, it was true, though he was also unsurprised; no one had ever accused the man of being slow, after all - he had simply been working with only half of the puzzle. He liked seeing that look of astonishment on his opponent's face, the "how in god's hell did you _do_ _this_" moment. Death never had the same flavor without the tang of victory.

"You," the man finally said, gaze hardening as his hand went to his waist, where his mini-scythe was doubtless resting. "It's been you all of this time, hasn't it? You, killing my men."

"Bingo." Axel's hand went to his own weapon - a knife - while discreetly checking the ones that were tied to his arm, the cold flat of the iron against his wrists matching the same sensation from his calves. One could never have too many weapons. "Glad you figured all this out, finally. It was beginning to get a little boring, fucking you all over without anyone noticing."

"I'm sure the afterlife will be less interesting still," Marluxia practically growled, telescoping his scythe out into its largest form, "Or it will be too interesting for even your tastes. I will kill you for the humiliation you have brought on us."

"'Fraid not," the redhead replied, emerald shards glinting out from the hollows in his face. "You're the one who's going to die here."

"I have guards," the man bluffed, face admirably unchanging. "They will come as soon as I call for them."

"Don't be an idiot," Axel laughed, large knife suddenly in his right hand and a smaller in his left. "This room is pretty much a fortress. You can't hear anything that goes on in here. But, of course you know the specs of your own safe-room - the point is, if you tried to get out to call them, you'd have to turn your back to me long enough that I could sever your spine. And where would you be then, hm?"

"I will make you bleed for your insolence."

"Go for it."

And then, with a flash, they were at each other's throats - steel clawing the air in clefts of wavering silver, surrounded by a blur of color - and, within moments, blood.

Any true fighter knew that any effective combat was decided within the first three strokes - and at the end of them, Marluxia's body was the one to meet the floor, his last gasp bubbling in crimson out of the gash in his throat.

Within moments, the window was open and Axel was on the street, stories below - and his own wound left its telltale crimson mark on the stone road behind him.

XXX

The woman in question was found within minutes, in precisely the place that it was suggested she would be - tearing apart the files with no apparent reason or intelligent thought, leaving them strewn on the bodies of the guards whom she had taken out. Saïx was inside the room before she even noticed that he was there, and so he waited for a moment - crouched, animal-like - until her bottle-green eyes had shot up in surprise. Within an instant, a set of throwing knives had appeared between her fingers - impressive, he supposed, for a woman.

"What are you doing here?" she spat, stupidly - it was really quite obvious why he was there. But, she obviously needed clarification on that point, so he would oblige her. For now.

"It is against regulation for an unauthorized person to be allowed access to the Organization's files," he informed her, baritone amused and condescending. "I am here to remove the threat."

Saïx felt Xemnas's gaze on the scene from behind him, where he would be standing, arms stiffly crossed as he waited in the hallway. This would be enjoyable.

"Is that so?" the woman asked, tone toxic in its intensity. "You make it sound so much easier than it will actually be."

"And you are perfectly within your rights to think so," he agreed, taking out his pistol - that was always best for the first part.

A flurry of knives came right at him almost as quickly as he drew his own weapon, but he moved out of their way easily - only years of experience and a good deal more talent would make this Larxene as powerful as Saïx himself was. This, now, was ability she would never have the time to gain.

He aimed his first shot carefully, then pulled the trigger - and was rewarded by a hoarse scream as her left leg gave out from under her, bending backwards grotesquely from the force of the bullet in her now-shattered kneecap. Even in that position, white of her eyes shot with blood, still she went for her weapon, taking aim at Saïx's calf, though she barely grazed it.

The scream pierced the sterile hallways and, as had been intended, drew anyone within hearing distance almost instantly to record room. They came at runs and jogs, looks of panic or determination on their faces and hands on weapons - until they saw the Superior and his second. Within moments they began to crowd around the door, faces growing drawn and pale as they saw the scene in front of them - the woman, the blood: and Saïx, reveling in the sheer act of dominance. An apt warning, to anyone who had ever considered going against Xemnas's power.

"Yes, that's it," Saïx murmured, watching her scrabble frantically for another weapon, movements quickly growing lethargic as shock set in. "Scream louder and I might make this easier for you." Scream to strike the fear of god into the watchers' hearts.

"Fuck you," she spat back, venomous until the end, "I'm going to rip your fucking _throat_ out."

"And _that_ will cost you," he replied, smile humorless as he took out his own knife, and knelt down by her. He took her delicate hand in his own - gently, like a lover - and caressed the tip of the steel against the smallest joint. Then, without warning, he sliced it off with all the precision of a butcher - and her eyes were on it, mouth open in a scream that never came, as it dropped to the ground.

Saïx stood up then and turned - regal and ominous in the pale light - fixing his yellow gaze on each onlooker, one by one, as they crowded in the door.

"Remember," he told them, wiping the blood slowly off of each hand. "This is what will befall any of you who choose to defy us." His eyes met with Xemnas's, across the sea of people, and between them, they shared a look of sharp pleasure.

But the moment was interrupted as the bitch, behind him, summoned up the last of her strength, and stabbed her last weapon directly into his calf.

A full, torture-filled hour later, they finally allowed her to die.

XXX

Axel finally managed to staunch his wound about ten minutes later, glad he'd worn a thick undershirt against the cold because it served him now as a bandage. Thankfully, the wound was light, if in a rather inopportune spot on his upper chest - but it had been more than worth the cost. Within about another forty-five minutes or so, the Organization would be in an uproar - and that much less able to fight him with any degree of effectiveness, if they even wanted to anymore.

With Marluxia, Larxene, and Zexion dead, Xigbar would probably take command of the Organization; though he had a chronic inability to give a shit, he was still probably the oldest assassin left in Chicago, which said worlds about his skill. Legend had it that the Freeshooter could hit a target from a mile away, given his preferred vantage point.

This was, of course, bullshit - but any person who was competent enough to have legends told about them who wasn't dead by now was competent enough to take over the Organization.

Xigbar's particular talents shouldn't have been, perhaps, a reason to feel any more comfortable with the situation - but his don't-give-a-damn attitude was. The grey-haired assassin had been of the opinion since the whole affair with the Rogue started that everyone should keep to their own business - and, he had added, anyone incompetent enough to get taken down by the Rogue deserved it. This was, of course, ideal for Axel's purposes - one group, at least, was out of the way.

Also, ShinRa might back off now, too, once an alliance with the Organization no longer required taking down the Rogue. It wasn't terribly likely, but possible nonetheless - and that would leave only Xemnas's syndicate to deal with.

So, purposefully ignoring what he had done in favor of what was to come, he jogged down the empty back-street towards the mansion - and he wondered as he approached the gold gates, whether or not he would ever leave again.

Pushing that thought out of his mind, he opened the servants' doorway, which opened to reveal Roxas sitting glumly on the countertop, with another head-full of spiky blonde hair hovering in the background, evidently still guarding. Upon seeing the redhead enter, the younger perked up visibly and hopped down from the counter - and the knowledge that it was for _him_, that Roxas was excited to see _him_, made Axel's smile turn genuine.

"Rox, what are you doing here?" he asked, though he wasn't particularly complaining. "Shouldn't you be somewhere else?" _Somewhere safer? More easily defensible? _the rational part of his mind asked, but the coherent portion quickly lost what little attention Axel had been paying to it as Roxas walked over and crossed his arms adorably, blushing and scowling because he wanted to believe he _really_ wasn't this much of a girl. He was, of course, just fooling himself, and would realize that eventually.

"I've been waiting for you, stupid," he muttered without meeting his lover's eyes. "You'd been gone for a while, and I was starting to wonder -" he broke his sentence off, probably unwilling to say the worst.

The redhead wanted to say something comforting - something easy - in response, something like "It's all going to be alright, you know," or "Nah, nothing bad's gonna happen to me," but the lies stuck in his throat, like they always did when around Roxas.

So, instead Axel settled for a quick laugh and something halfway in between the truth and the comfort the younger so obviously needed.

"Nah, I'm too stubborn a bastard for them to have gotten me just yet," he informed the other with a snort before realizing that the action sent a shooting fire through the wound on his chest, and only years of experience kept him from clutching at it in pain. Showing weakness was never ideal, no matter the situation - and it never fucking helped anyway. "They made quite the try of it this time around, though," he noted with a pained amusement as Roxas suddenly noticed the bandage that showed underneath his lover's unbuttoned coat.

Maybe someone else would have run to him and started checking out the wound, like they actually knew anything at all about medicine. But not Roxas - the boy understood him to well.

The blonde's words, then, met his lover on Axel's own terms: "Tell me you gave the son of a bitch as good as you got," Roxas said, his half-smile not entirely covering the look of worry.

"Better," Axel responded with a laugh, holding himself carefully so his wound didn't open up any more. "Now, did anybody ever bother to stock us up on bandages?" A pause. "No?" Another beat. "Of course not. Too much to hope for.

"So, I have a job for you and that brother of yours, Rox. Any clothes you've got up there that you aren't gonna need in the next couple of days - and nothin's gonna help you much if you haven't got a suit of bulletproof armor lyin' around - then I want you t' tear 'em or cut 'em up into strips and coil it all into bandage-rolls so we can use the shit."

It was kind of a strange thing, giving instructions and having people give a damn - downright strange, actually. Even Cloud, hovering in the back of the room with a vaguely unpleasant look on his face, sort of shot to attention when Axel started to dole out his directions - but then, he was a soldier, and not having specific orders to follow was probably freaking the hell out of him. Or maybe he just didn't have enough faith in the guy.

But that train of thought brought up an entirely different set of questions - beginning with, namely, why in _hell_ the blonde captain was still there, when he'd apparently been ordered away for the good of the company or some shit like that. He had been under the impression that he and his old acquaintance from the barracks would be enemies from that moment on.

That meant that either the Organization was mistaken - which wasn't particularly common - or Spike was directly disobeying orders. That in itself was kind of strange - it certainly wasn't for any love between him and Axel that the guy stayed.

"Cloud," he began, falsely agreeable, "So you're still here. Shouldn't you be off brainwashing new troops or listening to President ShinRa drone or somethin'?" he asked, actual question quite clear through his sarcasm. _Why_ was he still there, and was he gonna back off right when the going got tough? Those were kind of important bits of information.

The blonde nodded then, not much of one for words when actions would suffice. That was one thing that hadn't changed an ounce about him - though it was frustrating, because the nod only answered the explicit questions. Axel hated it when he had to be straightforward.

"Ah, that's good. But what I really mean, of course, is, why the hell are you still here when ShinRa ordered you the hell away from this place, and are you gonna trot off into the sunset without us anytime in the near future?" There was a beat, during which Axel glanced from side to side - and noted for the first time that Sora was conspicuously absent. "And please tell me that someone has the other shrimp's back. If I walk out there and find Sora's bloody carcass on the floor because somebody was too careless to have a bodyguard on him I am going to _kill you personally,_ Strife," he snapped, expression deadly serious.

The little brunette was too important to Roxas to be allowed to die - Axel knew that if something ever happened to Sora, his older brother would be inconsolable. And, as talented as the redhead was, it was physically impossible for him to be everywhere at once. He was going to use and rely on allies if he had any, simply because he had no choice.

"He's fine," Roxas spoke up quickly, calming the assassin with a flashed smile. "We've got Zack with him. He's asleep."

That was a relief not only was the kid safe, but there was more than one ally.

"You probably should be too," were the first words out of Axel's mouth, and he raised an eyebrow in silent question. As he spoke, his demeanor changed completely, tension melting into his usual comfortable stance after he was certain that everything was going as planned. "And we have another guard, excellent," he observed, smile growing again at the realization that not everything was fucked to hell

"Couldn't sleep," Roxas muttered in reply to his lover's unspoken question about his reasons for being awake, gaze shifting. "And we actually have four guards, not two," he added tentatively. There was another pause. "Quite a bit happened while you were gone. Cloud, you wanna explain?" he asked, with a glance over to the older man.

"Not really," the blonde man responded tonelessly, giving Axel a look that the assassin couldn't quite interpret.

"Then I guess the task falls to you, Rox," the redhead noted brightly. "Cloud, you wanna head out into the building and do something productive instead of sitting around listening to us chat?" he suggested, the glinting emphasis making it clear that it wasn't precisely optional.

The soldier gave a nod of agreement, before turning his crystal gaze on Axel, fierce in their uncharacteristic coldness.

"Afterwards, you and I have something to discuss," the man intoned, voice unmoving, the object of his sentence perfectly clear. As the blonde turned away and strode out the door, it left questions that were mildly uncomfortable - what in hell was Spike so angry about, for one, and for another, just what in hell did _Axel_ do? But he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment, because there were more important things to worry about.

As soon as the door shut, the redhead lost no time in closing the distance between Roxas and himself, tilting the younger's head up and catching a glimpse of surprise in those eyes in the process as he pressed their lips together, and took advantage of the blonde's sharp intake of breath to invade his mouth. It took a moment for the boy to respond - but once he did, it was with the fire and the passion that was remarkable in his nature, easily matching Axel's intensity despite the blonde's barely noticeable lack of experience.

Finally managing to pull apart for breath, the redhead gathered the composure to mutter a few words.

"Took me long enough to get back here. I've been wanting to do that _all fucking day_," he murmured as he nuzzled along Roxas's neck, drawing shudders from the boy as he placed a light kiss at the juncture under his shirt's black collar.

"…Didn't you want me to tell you… Nn…" Roxas's words were interrupted as his lover's tongue flicked lightly across the shell of his ear. "Is this really… the best time?" he finally asked, voice strained and half-pleading. He didn't sound particularly convincing.

"It's always the best time for shit like this if you're enjoying yourself," Axel responded, though even as he said it, he pulled away from the blonde regretfully. The kid was probably right, after all - the redhead had used sex as a distraction enough times to know that it worked pretty damn well. People were much less apt to notice anything - theft, betrayal, creeping death - while basking in afterglow. So it probably wasn't the smartest thing to indulge in himself.

"So," he continued, enjoying the flushed and bewildered look on Roxas's face as he was left suddenly without a warm body to pin him to the cabinet, "wasn't there something you needed to tell me?"

Axel smiled fondly, honestly, and he watched the boy fumble for words, unable to complain because he _had_ asked his lover to stop, even if he hadn't precisely meant it. It took the blonde another bit to really focus enough to begin telling the story, and even then he was a little bit distracted - but that was alright, because whatever he was saying didn't seem nearly as important as the adorable look of flushed confusion that didn't go away nearly as quickly as it should have.

_We'd better both fucking survive this,_ Axel thought to himself, realizing that he probably had a pretty stupid look on his face just then and not particularly caring, _because seeing that expression only once in my life would be a real goddamn tragedy._

XXX

When the spectators had all dispersed, bearing with them the blonde woman's shredded, lifeless body, spilling out over the arms of her saviors, arms flailing brokenly - backwards - with each of the man's steps. Xemnas couldn't be bothered to deal with pedestrian affairs such as the deposition of bodies, so his knowledge of what they planned to do with her was about as intense as his desire to know. Instead, his eyes fixed on Saïx's - dark with frenzy, with the bloodlust that made him so dangerous, so powerful - and he could see the man struggling to regain hold of himself.

This was not the first time he had seen Saïx's berserker frenzy, nor would it be the last - it would be with the man until the day he died, and even that day would be a bloody one for those he fought. His duality, so emblematic of humanity itself - the rationality, the passionate and illogical fury hidden underneath the patina of calm - fascinated Xemnas, and never more so than when he was bloodstained and panting, eyes gleaming with that barely restrained killing instinct.

"Saïx," the Superior began, voice rumbling, "We are done here, and we have business elsewhere."

His subordinate took a long, meditative breath, then another, and closed his eyes - when they opened, they were again the eyes of a human, without the dark rim they had borne not so very long ago. Now that the man's target was gone, he could apparently clear his mind of the emotion, returning again to his normal state.

"If you have no immediate need of me," Saïx responded with a kind of half amusement, "then I would request time to wash before taking on whatever task you need me to perform."

Xemnas gave a nod in agreement, noting the other man's blood-caked hair and clothing.

"Return to me quickly." He knew that his subordinate would understand the meaning behind the request - they were about to begin their hunt for the Rogue.

So he turned and left, striding purposefully towards his office. He had information that needed to be gathered, information that needed to be distributed.

According to one of his informants in a discussion not yet two hours past, the adults of the McCarthy family - the people that lived in the mansion the Rogue was currently protecting - had been sighted in Lansing with an entourage of bodyguards. What was more, he seemed to have been there for an extended period of time, because he had already set up a makeshift office and was going about his business as usual.

Even more curious than that was the fact that the children of the family were nowhere to be found in Lansing - so likely enough, they were still in the mansion, under that man's protection. Also, according to verbal reports his people had collected, people in the city admitted to having seen a boy whose appearance matched the blonde child's photograph. He was still in the city - to make it seem like the whole family was still there, most likely.

All of this made it seem like the Rogue was an insider in one of the many organizations, and spent a great deal of time and effort in creating the situation that was the least likely to give him away as a traitor.

The moment he walked into his office, he picked up the ivory-handled telephone on his desk and spun the telephone dial to the correct numbers by memory.

"Rufus ShinRa," came the answering voice on the other side, clearly full of frustration. "If whatever you have to say isn't incredibly important, I would ask that you wait until later to bother me with it. I am incredibly busy right now."

"If you don't have enough intelligence to speak with respect to the most powerful man in the city, perhaps I should not be giving this information to you after all," Xemnas noted, amusement in his voice at the younger ShinRa's arrogance.

"Ah, Xemnas," he responded, sounding perhaps a bit relieved to hear that. "I apologize if I was being short. There have been some… issues, concerning the Rogue." He paused, and Xemnas did not interrupt - for once - in order to hear what the other man had to say. "Marluxia was killed, presumably about an hour ago. We have a name for the assassin," Rufus said carefully, and the Superior could almost see the smile on the younger man's face, tone halfway between frustration and triumph.

Killed, was he? Unsurprising, though that meant that Xigbar would likely take control of the Organization, and they could not necessarily count on the Organization's help to achieve their goals.

"Do you. So do I, and more besides." He knew the man's name, his location - and, he hoped, the man's motivation. So much of it rested on that.

"The name he goes by is Axel, am I incorrect?" ShinRa's vice-president asked, voice crackling through the machine. "We are still unsure as to his location, however."

"Yes. Axel is his name, and I am not unsure as to his location," Xemnas responded, taking a step towards the bookshelves at the back of the room and gripping the telephone receiver even more tightly.

"Excellent. When should preparation begin?"

"Tonight." It was perhaps morning by this point, he reflected - but work in the Syndicate did not end when the day did, and apparently the President's son could not be bothered to sleep with the sun either.

"Bribe the police into avoiding the vicinity of the McCarthy family's mansion for the rest of the week," the elder continued, "Also, I suggest that you place guards around the area, to ensure that no one enters or exits the area without direct permission from our organizations. I will begin amassing my best fighters today, and if you wish to join in this fight, I suggest you do the same."

"He is a threat to the established order, and we will not rest until he is defeated," Rufus replied, confident as always. "Our peacekeeping force will be there by noon tomorrow."

"Agreed," Xemnas responded, and hung up the phone without any further formalities, as nothing more needed to be said.

Their alliance would be short-lived, but useful - primarily, ShinRa would serve as a distraction while the Superior himself, and Saïx as well, found and rid themselves of the Rogue. ShinRa, as powerful as they might have been, had this sentimental tendency to simply _kill_ people - and it seemed a bit backwards, really. Death shouldn't come first, it should only come _last_ - after their lives had been ripped apart, as much as one could.

Sometimes killing them was the worst possible punishment. Other times, letting them live - but broken, mentally and physically, unable to fight back or compete - was the worst thing that could be done to a man.

Most of the time, however, it was the process of breaking them which was the best - and now, Xemnas was fairly certain how he could punish their dissention.

Axel was not an idiot, and would not risk himself or his purpose by being seen with the child he was surreptitiously guarding - not unless there was another reason. A discernable objective in taking the blonde boy - Roxas - to a bar, and proceeding to become intoxicated with the other, was so conspicuously absent that the Superior could only conclude that the man had done it, as he did so many things, simply because he wanted to.

Xemnas had known the man - in the biblical sense and otherwise - more than once, and he knew that the only things Axel did on a whim, regardless of consequences, involved sex, gambling, or death. Since the latter two appeared to be absent, sex, likely consensual, seemed the most probable.

_And that explains everything terribly well_, Xemnas thought with a triumphant, deadly smile. But even more than just giving a motivation, it gave him an idea - he would shatter them all, the whole family, in one final, decisive stroke.

There was no room for dissenters in the world he was going to create.

XXX

ShinRa's board of trustees had always made it a point to make sure that the desks in their meeting area were elevated significantly higher than their presenter - when asked, they attributed this fact to their need to see the presentation area better, but they were clearly lying. The truth was that they simply enjoyed being able to look down on anyone who came in to speak to them - it gave them a sense of supremacy, of power, that they apparently craved.

Sephiroth, however, had mastered the art of intimidation, no matter what tricks they tried to pull - and his cold stare that day might have stopped armies, so he had very little trouble with the corporate bureaucracy.

"Please repeat that," he began, voice frozen and eyes burning. "I'm sure I didn't hear you correctly."

"We have received correspondence from the leader of the largest Syndicate in Chicago as to the location of the Rogue. He is in the McCarthy family mansion, guarding the family there. We will blockade the house and kill the family, in addition to the Rogue and any other guards who may or may not be in the building." Heidegger paused then, shifting his considerable girth to find a better sitting position. "Your orders are to lead our forces in the assault."

There was a long silence, and Sephiroth's stare bored into the other man's face - he could see the executive board member beginning to sweat. The General hadn't even gotten serious yet.

"And after that," the blonde woman, Scarlet, butted in with a false sweetness from the other side of the table, "We would _very much _like to know where the captains Zack Fair and Cloud Strife have hidden themselves. You know that we ordered their presence at this meeting, along with yours."

"Zack is on leave. You have no say as to whether he comes or goes until said leave his over," Sephiroth informed her tightly, not answering the second part of their question. The board's distinctly antagonistic behavior was beginning to make him question just why he had come back to the Company at all - but he remembered, somewhere in the back of his mind, nonetheless.

If he had not come back, he would never have been a soldier again - he would have been alone, without a purpose.

"We have taken him off of leave," Heidegger informed the other, looking like he was on the verge of bursting into his _idiotic_ guffaw out of sheer nerves. "Where is he?"

Sephiroth gave an elegant shrug at that, eyes never leaving Heidegger's corpulent face.

"I don't know. Ask someone else," he shot back, unwilling to give the man easy answers even in the best of situations - which this certainly was not. Cloud and Zack were, each without knowing what they were doing, protecting ShinRa's enemy - protecting a man dangerous enough that three of the most powerful entities in the city were hunting for his head.

"We're asking you, and we're asking now," Rufus interrupted smoothly from his seat in the center of the table, meeting Sephiroth's gaze coolly. The younger ShinRa was the only person on the Board who didn't begin to hyperventilate when the General walked into the room. "You and those two captains are ordered to meet outside of the Mansion tomorrow, and put your every effort into killing them all."

The shortsighted stupidity of every one of them was nothing short of astonishing.

"You do realize that this was the family we were previously guarding," the dark-clad man began slowly, eyes roving to meet everyone's gaze in turn.

"Then you should have an advantage when we fight them," came Rufus's response, and Sephiroth's eyes narrowed.

There was a long quiet.

"I would have, if I had agreed to fight." Another pause. "I refuse."

"What?!" Heidegger exclaimed vehemently, standing up with difficulty from his cushioned chair, "You can't do that. I'll have your head, you insolent son of a bitch."

Sephiroth's short, dangerous laugh was enough to make the other man sit back down again, and temporarily stop the hearts of all the weak-willed creatures in the room.

"I welcome you to try," was his only response - and it was clear from the lack of answering anger that no-one wished to endanger themselves by doing so.

"Rufus ShinRa," Sephiroth continued, turning his gaze on the blond man, "I formally refuse this assignment, and any others in which I must target our former allies. However," he continued, just as the vice-president's eyes began to narrow, "neither will I hinder your operation."

The whole room relaxed at that, and the General wondered for a passing moment just what they thought he was going to do. No, he wouldn't fight ShinRa - the redhead, that Axel, likely deserved death in any case. But, Cloud and Zack did not deserve to be cut down by their own allies.

He would not raise a hand against them - and perhaps with adequate warning, they would come to their senses and return to the corporation. Perhaps they would be able to, at the very least, survive.

"I also would not disclose to you the current locations of Zack Fair or Cloud Strife, even if I knew them. Please keep that in mind, Vice-President."

One of the many advantages of his great strength was the ability to inspire abject fear in both allies and enemies; so as he turned and sat down in his own seat at the board table - thoughts wandering elsewhere, considering how he might best save two lives - not one word was spoken against him.

XXX

XXX

Uh… so this chapter was way, way too long. Almost eleven thousand words in my own word processor, and even more than that according to FFN! I realized sometime during the process of writing it that this chapter is actually longer than my first serious fic attempt…

But in other news, LLYMI has finally made it over the 100,000 word threshold! I think I've gone up about five levels in geekiness, haha.

So… A little bit weird, a little bit long, and hardly perfect - but here it is. (Next time I resolve to write something that only focuses on two characters, dammit)

Comment if you liked? It would make me so very, very happy.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The story that Roxas had just finished telling was so unlikely that, if it had come from any other lips, Axel might have thought that it was not just a mistake but an outright lie. But, he figured that not only would his lover probably not lie to him, but the kid had no reason to. The part about Cloud and Seph made enough sense - now that he was looking for it, the redhead remembered seeing that wide-eyed look on the blonde's face more than once - but not so much the rest of it. The General didn't seem like the sort of man who would help people out for no reason at all.

"So the high and mighty general went and found us some backup, did he?" the assassin asked, mildly curious about the nature of the new recruit - but, more than that, wondering what had made the normally stone-cold general do something like that. "Not exactly what I expected."

"Maybe not - but he also left, and is going to fight against us, with our enemies," the blonde pointed out in a half angry tone - but there was something else there, a genuine terror that Axel had seen enough times on the faces of others to recognize it. The sensation hung in the air between them in silence.

"Shit, Axel," Roxas blurted after a moment, like their whole conversation had been an excuse for him to build up his strength for this moment, "They know it's you. They're not just after us, they're after _you_," he said, manner hinging on the desperate, as if this was somehow new information. But then, Axel supposed, it was to the kid. "He left. ShinRa is after us and he's with _them_."

"Yeah, and that makes him an asshole." An asshole who would probably get them all killed, no less. But Axel was hardly about to say that to the kid.

"…We're all going to die, aren't we?" the blonde finally asked, searching his lover's face for an answer - his look one of quiet despair, disconcertingly replacing his normal scowl. The assassin knew then that nothing he could do or say at this point would convince the other of the pretty lie - and evidently Roxas realized it too, because the expression on his face began to darken from fear to something resembling anger.

"We're all going to die, and it's your fault," the blonde continued, words growing icy and anger picking up with every word. It's my father's goddamn fault, for getting you involved in all of this, your fault for taking his fucking assassination job, for making me fucking stay _here_ instead of going off to Michigan with my family, for letting Sora stay here where his life's in fucking _mortal peril_," he snapped - and even this sudden anger was better than his earlier, terrible hopelessness. So, Axel stood there and took it, face immobile, until the other's rage was spent.

_This is his response to everything, _Axel reminded himself. _This is how you met him. It's Roxas, for god's sake. You can't say you weren't expecting it._

"You," Roxas breathed as his rant resumed, "you and Sora and everybody who's helping us out, they're going to die horribly, with Sephiroth's fucking _monster sword_ in their chests and it's going to be _your fault_," he snarled, grabbing the front of Axel's jacket as if he could actually do something to the other man. "_Your fault_ for getting us involved in this whole damn business. You didn't stop and think, did you? Didn't stop and think about who you were going to get involved and whose lives you were going to fucking ruin," he tried to say, but it came out more like a sob - and Axel took that moment to pull the other into a tight embrace, and Roxas, finally unable to rail at the world and at fate any longer, buried his face in his lover's chest.

"It's not all bad," the redhead said quietly. "I mean…" he began, drifting off in thought for a moment, "I mean, there's us, right? So something good came of my royal fuck-up," he noted with a small laugh, watching the spiky top of the blonde's head with a bitter smile. Slowly, the redhead began to realize that the front of his jacket was becoming damp - _fuck, he's __**crying**_- but he didn't say anything. Even if he had known how to begin, the boy would just have denied it anyway.

Roxas would never admit to something like that - because, for a man, rage was acceptable. Fear was not. He would rather hurt someone he cared about with his anger than admit to being terrified out of his fucking wits - it was illogical but true, for not just Roxas but for the whole of the culture they both lived in.

So, Axel pretended not to see the tinge of color in the younger's eyes as he pulled his face away from the redhead's chest.

"Get me a cigarette," Roxas began, voice strained with the effort of keeping his appearance as calm as the situation would allow. "Get me a cigarette and a gun, and I'll take whatever they can throw at us."

The redhead stepped back for just long enough to get one out of his pocket - you could never have too many cigs on you - and handed it to the blonde before striking a match easily and lighting it. The kid choked, of course, on his first drag - but he pretended like he hadn't, like he'd smoked before and it was the easiest thing in the world.

"You know, there's still a chance that we'll both come out of this alive," Axel murmured, lighting another of the pack for himself.

"Glad to know one of the two of us is an optimist," the younger responded, scowling as if he was actually annoyed, and affecting a façade of strength as he took another drag. "Let me know how that works out for you."

"If we make it out of this alive, I definitely will, and if we don't, I'll never have the chance. So this is automatically in my favor," came the redhead's response as he regained some of his usual buoyancy, tapping the cigarette absentmindedly against the counter and not cleaning up the ash that fell. "Anyway, no sense in sitting around and dwelling on it. If we're gonna die, we're gonna die - but we're going to take 'em with us, ya hear me?"

Roxas hesitated for a moment - Axel could see it in every tiny motion.

"Just make me one promise," the blonde finally muttered, standing as close to the other as his pride would allow, "Even if I… Well, no matter what happens to me, will you promise to keep Sora safe?" Another pause. "And… don't die if you don't have to, ok? Don't be a martyr or anything stupid like that."

Axel laughed then, quietly but evidently not quietly enough because his lover gave him a mildly scandalized look.

"Kid, you have me pegged wrong," the assassin noted with amusement. "I'm not that good of a guy. If you kids kick the bucket, I'm gonna scram, you got it? The rest of the guys -" he meant the other guards "- are tough. They can handle themselves."

Roxas gave a small smile in return.

"Well, I'm glad you have at least that much sense," the blonde replied, and Axel leaned down to meet the other's smoke-drenched lips with his own. If they didn't have much longer together, then they were going to make every minute count.

XXX

Not too long after the failed meeting between himself and the ShinRa executive board, Sephiroth found himself suddenly surrounded by four tight-lipped Turks, with Rufus ShinRa at his back. He had more or less expected something of the sort when he had openly challenged the Vice-President's power and authority at the meeting, but hadn't expected it to be so soon - the Turks certainly were efficient, whatever else might have been said about them.

"General Sephiroth," the younger ShinRa intoned as the man he was addressing turned around to focus stony eyes on him, "I have a few things I would like to discuss with you," the blond man noted icily.

"I see - you didn't have the courage to face me on your own, without your entourage," Sephiroth noted with barely an undertone of insubordination.

"Caution is wise around a man such as yourself," the younger responded, shifting his weight - and the General felt rather than saw the Turks' hands inch closer to their gun holsters. "But regardless of that, the rampant disrespect you flaunted at the meeting was not acceptable," he informed the elder, voice silky as he ran a hand through his hair.

The younger ShinRa's own powers of intimidation were not to be ignored - but Sephiroth let it slide off him with an implacable calm that had never yet been broken under duress - even on the battlefield as artillery fire flew close enough that he could feel the wind from their movement. Something as meaningless as Rufus ShinRa's superiority complex had no effect on him now.

"Might I remind you," the vice-president continued, "that if you should ever leave this company or be forced out, there is no place left in this city or any other that will take you. You left the national army to come to us at Hojo's insistence, and they will not take you back. Anyone lesser than that will not risk ShinRa's displeasure to take you on," he noted with a vindictive pleasure.

"I have not considered leaving ShinRa or standing in the way of your orders," Sephiroth replied, eyes flashing. "I would advise you not to suggest such a thing." Even if he had never before considered leaving ShinRa, it was seeming like an increasingly excellent idea. But he was not willing, he realized, to face what that would entail.

"And I would advise you not to speak to me in such a way."

Reno, ever the impatient one, pulled his nightstick out of wherever it was he kept it and tapped it against his shoulder, not having anything more dangerous to do with it.

"C'mon boss, can't we -"

Sephiroth's short, cold laugh interrupted the redhead's words. None of them could stand up to the General in a fight - perhaps they needed to be reminded of that fact.

"I am still loyal, Rufus ShinRa. I will not obstruct the company and the company's interests whether they coincide with my personal beliefs or not. But I will not go along with them either. ShinRa may have no qualms about betraying allies, but I will not."

But even as he pushed past the woman Turk to get away from this man and his painfully arrogant conduct, it still occurred to the General that, in some ways, he had already betrayed them. He was standing by and watching as an army took them on - fought against Zack, and Cloud; a man who had always looked up to him, was possibly in love with him, though only god knew why.

And yet, faced with isolation and rejection by a world that could see only his sword and the number on his hand, he was left immobile - and for that, more than anything else, he wished he had been a stronger man.

XXX

The troops began to amass outside of the Mansion even before the sun had properly broken the horizon, bringing with them the clang of weaponry and heavy boots across the concrete. Vincent was the first to see them - he hadn't slept, of course, not with the danger so sharply imminent - as he heard the clamor of voices, breaths catching and freezing in the wintry air. A furtive, sidelong glance out the window told him what he needed to know - the ShinRa army troops gathered in formation outside the bolted gates, and presumably around on all sides. These solid threats were supplemented by much quicker, dark clad-figures shivering into and out of existence in the spaces between the troops - looking for a weakness in the Mansion's defense, presumably. There were many places where an infiltration would be easier - a mansion was not a fortress, and could not be made into one with their limited resources.

But the most important information he gleaned from the scene, more than numbers or composition of the troops, was that they were surrounding the mansion in a defensive formation rather than beginning the attack right away. They would not assault the Mansion straight-on - even ShinRa was not quite so impervious to the law as they pretended. They could not open fire on the house of one of Chicago's most respected men and remain unpunished.

The real battle, then, would be inside - with ShinRa's and the other group's best fighters against the family's guards. It could never, of course, be a fair fight - but it was far better than a shoot-out with an army.

Turning away from the window and back into the relative safety of the mansion's inner area, Vincent noted that the sound of his boots on the tile had evidently woken Yuffie - she blinked at him blearily from her position on the floor by the library door.

"Vincent?" she questioned sleepily, rubbing the dust from her eyes as best as she could manage and then glancing over at the window. "It's almost light outside," she remarked, half-accusing. "Weren't you supposed to wake me for my watch?"

That was true - but he hadn't been able to bring himself to wake her, and he was quite accustomed to not sleeping. It was one of the few benefits his long stay in Hojo's laboratory had given him.

"I am not impaired by minor sleep deprivation," he responded, face unreadable, "whereas most others are. You need to be alert today," he murmured after a short pause. "It is likely that this will be over soon." He walked towards the stairs then in the direction of the children's room - everyone would need to be up and away from any windows, immediately. It would be inexcusable to survive for this long and be taken down through a window by an expert gunman.

"What, are those bastards outside already?" she asked, bravely attempting a grin. "They're awfully eager to die, aren't they?" she remarked, apparently calm - though she was instantly on her feet, at the ready. The nervous energy in the room was almost palpable, thrumming through the air in pulses and settling in their stomachs. It was not full-blown terror - Vincent had faced down death too many times to be terrified at the prospect - but it was a fear, and he knew by looking at the faces of the others in the Mansion that it was shared.

"Indeed," the dark-haired man responded, and without another word was up the stairs, standing before the children's room in instants.

"Vincent," Cloud said quietly before the former Turk had even properly opened the door. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, clear blue eyes that were far too open for a ShinRa drone focusing in on the other man's pale face.

Vincent did not respond instantly, as his attention was taken without warning not by the soldier, or by the brunette child in the bed - but by the fact that the child was alone. The blonde child was curled in a corner, with the redheaded guard's arms wrapped securely around him, both sleeping soundly, easily. It was strange, such a scene among such tension and danger, so the fighter sent a questioning look and a raised eyebrow to Cloud.

The soldier responded with a shrug, and the half-muttered words: "I don't know what it's about, but Axel brought Roxas in a while ago and the kid was already asleep. They've been like that since midnight."

Though it was strange, it was not any of the former Turk's business - so he let it drop after the one silent query. Other topics were far more important at the moment.

"We need him up and awake. Fair as well," he began, deep voice rolling over the quiet room. "Shinra is amassing outside the gates, and others with them. We will not be able to avoid battle for much longer."

The blonde man's soldier instincts kicked in visibly then - his back went rigid and his expression blank; and he looked every bit the Captain he was said to be.

"I'll get Zack," he informed the other firmly, but quietly. "Let these two sleep, though, for a while longer. Axel hasn't closed an eye in days, and Roxas hasn't been much better," he

Vincent nodded curtly as Cloud moved to leave.

"If you think it's best," he responded, and wondered at the expression of peace on the two lovers' faces.

XXX

The phone rang suddenly just as Xemnas had been about to leave his office, Saïx having returned to his master with the blood finally cleaned from under his fingernails.

"Hello?" he began crossly as he picked up the ivory-handled receiver, not entirely happy with the interruption.

"So," came a familiar voice from across the speaker, "I hear you're looking for some help, old man. Looking to take down Axel," he noted in a manner that was less than helpful. The voice was distinctive, but nonetheless difficult to place - raspy and vaguely mocking, but authoritative despite that. After a moment, it came to him - Xigbar was his name, an assassin from the Organization. It was a strange occurrence, to say the least - he did not give out his telephone information to just anyone.

"If I remember correctly, your Organization had already promised assistance to our cause," Xemnas responded after a moment, creases in his forehead growing deeper, and Saïx sent his superior a curious glance from across the room.

Xigbar's answering laugh was unmistakable.

"Yeah, we did, sorta. But we've got a new leader now - me. I figured I'd call up and let ya know that Marluxia's dead. Axel did him in a bit ago, now I really wanna fuckin' _maim_ that sonovabitch."

_Damn, _was Xemnas's first thought upon hearing those words from the assassin's mouth. _The fucking bastard, we've been used. _While the Syndicate had been conveniently doing away with the Organization's second-in-command, the Rogue had been killing the leader - this left them disorganized and helpless, at least for the time being. They, as a group, were useless for practical purposes.

But Xigbar himself was not. The Freeshooter himself - Xemnas remembered the nickname suddenly - could be very useful.

"We're storming the Mansion today," Xemnas informed the other without preface. "If you would like to help take down the Rogue, we welcome you. I might however," he continued, words glinting in the harsh light, "ask one small favor from you."

"Yeah?" Xigbar returned, sounding more than a little interested. "And what might that be?"

"I want you to come to the mansion as soon as you can with the largest piece of destructive machinery you can come up with."

"I bought a piece of the army's artillery off 'em not too long ago. That too big?" he asked, voice harsh as he laughed - everything he did seemed to be coated with a mocking antagonism. But, at least he was useful.

"How accurately can you hit with one of those things?"

"Gimme six inches one way or the other, and two feet if the shit's moving," Xigbar responded, and Xemnas knew that the other man's confidence was hardly unwarranted.

"Then it's perfect. And - after you've performed my request, you are welcome to do as you please," the Superior noted, and Saïx's eyes fairly glowed from across the room - suddenly, he understood the purpose behind his master's veiled words.

"'Preciate your generosity, old man, but I was gonna do what I wanted anyway. And whoever gets to Axel first gets to put a bullet in 'im, deal?"

"Accepted," came Xemnas's response - and, putting down the receiver, he was out the door in a flash, his subordinate at his side before he even had to say a word. They would not be the last ones to their objective.

XXX

Only a few steps away from the children's room, Cloud found Zack asleep on his sword - he seemed to have propped himself up with it in the hopes of staying awake and only ended up smudging the flat of the blade as his head slid down it. The dark-haired soldier was probably the only person in the world who could manage to be so clueless sometimes and then pull it together in quite the way that he did and be so deadly.

"Hey, Zack," the blonde began, tapping his friend's side with the toe of his boot.

"What? What's wrong?" the man asked, on his feet before he had time to regain his balance and swaying like he was drunk. Peering through squinted eyes, he finally sighed and scratched the back of his neck lazily.

"Shit, Spike," he exclaimed, barely stifling a yawn, "You scared the hell outta me. Why'd you have to go and do that? I was in the middle of an awesome dream."

Cloud raised an eyebrow at that but decided - wisely - not to ask, before turning back to the business at hand.

"You should wake up pretty quickly," the blonde replied, giving a dark look over the rail to the front door. "I'd guess that they'll be attacking us within an hour or two."

That was enough for Zack to get back down to business.

"They? You mean ShinRa?" he asked, voice quiet but giving Cloud a meaningful look.

"And whoever else they've found to do their dirty work," came the blonde's reply. The Organization was certainly involved, and the army - but more than that, he couldn't be sure.

There was a long silence, as both of them avoided the topic that they knew would have to be addressed.

"Cloud…" he began, taking a step forward to his friend, "I just wanna know… I mean, we haven't really talked since before you and Sephiroth did…" Another pause. "Are you ok with this? I dunno if Sephiroth is out there or not, but if he is - are you ok with fighting him?"

"I could ask you the same question," the blonde replied, expertly avoiding a direct answer. "He's one of your best friends."

Zack shrugged it off, not one to be distracted so easily.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not gonna fight him if I don't have to - I mean, the guy's an asshole, but probably not enough of an asshole to attack _us_ - but the question was about you, Spike, not about me. Are you ok with fighting against him?" His concern for the younger was almost palpable - just one of the many qualities which made him such an admirable person.

"The same goes for me," Cloud responded, turning away. "I won't raise my sword against him until I need to. Until something happens and he decides to try and hurt you, or Sora, or even Roxas, I will not fight him." A beat. "But there are some things in the world that are really worth protecting, no matter what I have to do."

Without warning, the blonde felt Zack's arm being slung around his shoulder, and looked over to see his friend's irrepressible grin.

"You've grown a lot, you know," the other captain said with more than a hint of pride. "That's good - because I feel exactly the same way," he said, and somehow his words made everything so much easier to bear.

Whatever Cloud may have said, and whatever his resolutions may have been - still, he did not know whether he would really be able to fight his ideal; because meeting the man's emerald eyes, even just once, would be fatal.

XXX

When the sound of a revolver's cylinder being filled woke Sora, there was light seeping in from under the doorway so he could only assume that it was past dawn. The fact that the sound didn't bother him - and even more, that he recognized the sound of the bullets clicking into place - was really a testament to the kind of lives they'd been living since the beginning of the whole fiasco.

He spent a few minutes trying to cling to sleep but eventually resigned himself to opening his eyes and sat up, running a hand through his already mussed hair absently.

"Good, you're up," came Axel's voice from somewhere beside the bed, and Sora looked over to see the redhead cleaning and filling quite the array of weaponry on the floor, with Roxas asleep on his shoulder. "I wouldn't give it more than a couple of hours before we get attacked, so you might wanna be up and ready. There's an army out there, and they're just waiting for orders." The way he said it, in such a matter-of-fact manner, did little to assuage Sora's nerves.

"…Roxas is still asleep," the brunette pointed out, more because he didn't know what else to say than because he was actually complaining.

The redhead shrugged as best as he could without dislodging his lover.

"He got less sleep than you did, and he needs it," Axel responded, giving the cylinder of one of his guns an experimental spin. "I'll wake him up in a minute."

This seemed, for some reason, distinctly strange to Sora - it seemed like he and his brother should be doing something to help. Anything, really.

"Can't we help out?" the brunette asked with a forced cheer. Worrying wouldn't help anything, after all. "I mean, we can start making bandages, or help you fill your weapons, or -"

Axel's bitter laugh cut him off, and the boy stared, wide-eyed, at the other's expression.

"I told your brother you should do that, actually - but that was just to make him feel better, really." He stopped for a moment, eyeing his weapons collection. "But it's pretty fuckin' likely that nobody's gonna need bandages by the end of the day." The unspoken implications were quite clear, and Sora could feel the blood drain from his face.

"Is that… Is that right?" the younger asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "I mean, then why have you been… Why have you been working so hard to save us?"

"I dunno." A pause. "Stupidity. Hope." The redhead gave a glance to Roxas then - and in that flicker of an instant, he said more than he could have with all the words in the world.

"…I see. Then… why didn't you just take us out of the city with our parents?" Sora questioned, hoping to keep his mind off of the inevitable with the chatter.

Axel's laugh then was even more humorless than his first, though his fierce grin never abated.

"Kid, your parents are dead," he murmured, putting his revolver back into his holster and refusing to meet the younger's eyes and ignoring the younger's sharp intake of breath. "They've been dead for a day, maybe more now. Xemnas's people got 'em, guess they were hoping to get us all down and hopeless or somethin'. I thought that sending them away would get 'em out of all this shit, but…" He paused, and his glass-shard gaze finally fell on Sora's. "Chicago's my city. The chances of you kids staying alive are better here than anywhere else."

Sora could feel his breathing speed up, his heart race, and there was nothing he could do about it - and worse, now was no time to grieve. He had to focus, right now, on staying alive - later, if they managed, there would be time to grieve. If not: well, they wouldn't be apart for very long.

He wouldn't ask why Axel didn't say so earlier - he hadn't been there, hadn't had a chance to speak with them, hadn't wanted to lower their morale; any excuse would do. Sora was just going to have to try and make it now, whatever the reason - try to be strong, despite everything.

"Well… Thank you for doing what you can," the brunette began, climbing out from under his covers, his usual cheer gone but his determination still showing through. "Thank you for everything, and thank you for your advice - but I'm going to go make bandages now."

Axel raised an eyebrow, and stopped halfway in the motion of sharpening a knife.

"Didn't I tell you we wouldn't need them?"

"Well, we'll feel like idiots if we need them and don't have them, won't we?" the boy noted, finally managing to stand properly and walk over to the closet door. When there was no response, he glanced uncomfortably over to the elder - and the expression on Axel's face was inexplicable, like he was seeing Sora for the first time. Slowly, his smirk returned, as a look of realization dawned in the man's eyes.

"You know, kid," he began, flipping the blade he had been sharpening up into the air and catching it between two fingers, "I like you. Only fuckin' morons get caught off guard, right?"

"That's right," Sora responded, taking a suit down from its hanger and placing it on the floor, where he began to tear away at a lifetime of his family's oppression.

XXX

As soon as the day broke, the Turks were in place around the mansion - they could climb the wrought-iron fence with little to no effort, and each would enter through a window as soon as they crossed the green. Once inside, they would have free reign to do as they chose - though they all realized that they were mostly the distraction to pave the way for Soldier and their other allies to do the actual killing. They were used to that, though - the Turks didn't usually get the glory, they got the dirty work.

The glory went to men like Sephiroth, who - for reasons unknown to everyone there - had decided to bestow his presence upon the unsuspecting army. According to Tseng, he was still insisting that he wouldn't fight - maybe he thought he'd solve the issue through pleasant discussion, though that didn't sound like the famous General's style. Then again, none of this really did - but Reno had long ago stopped trying to make sense of Sephiroth's ways. It was an honest-to-god exercise in futility.

But besides the General, Rufus himself had even deigned to make an appearance there - and while this was probably mildly worrisome for Tseng, Reno knew that the vice-president was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. The fact that he had a whole fuckin' army surrounding him didn't hurt anything, either.

Of course, whatever Rufus wanted, the Turks did - they were deadly loyal to their vice-president, and nothing was going to change that. They'd face down hellfire for him, so standing against President ShinRa for him wasn't such a stretch - though it did put their jobs in a bit of danger. The elder ShinRa hadn't been happy when he'd returned home only a few hours previously to find that his son had basically taken control of the corporation in the father's absence.

He had reluctantly agreed to still send out the troops as his son had promised, but Reno could tell that there would be hell to pay afterwards.

But that was the future - and right now, Rufus was pretty damn safe behind his army, and the Turks were all just waiting for the chance to jump. All of them had a talent for being sneaky, it was true, though not necessarily subtle - but all of them were really just waiting for a chance to bash someone's head in. To get their hands dirty.

Their chance came quickly enough; Reno was the first to catch Rufus's glance across the sea of grey - but within moments, the others saw it too, and they launched themselves over the iron fence and across the green, world blurring with his movement as red flashed at the edges of his vision. It had been far too long since he had been let loose - and the world would have the scars to show for it.

XXX

It was probably a gift of Yuffie's heritage - or maybe her upbringing, it didn't really matter - that she had a gift for sensing impending danger. So, moments before the battle began, she was crouched at the base of the stairs with her knives in hand. The breath before the tempest was too long - poised at the edge, ready to jump, until, suddenly -

Glass burst into the entryway and shattered to the ground as four suited figures - the Turks, she realized - shot through the windows in the Mansion's entryway, barely even taking time to set foot on the tile before launching themselves at the girl.

A bullet hit the floor where she had been moments earlier, ricocheting off the tile and flying up to hit the landing's railway, and only her agile movements saved her from those that followed. None of them could match her for speed, though she knew they were superior in strength and skill, so she let her knives fly - one, another, another; from below, from above, from anywhere she could manage - though they sprang apart quickly enough that her weapons clattered on the floor, useless.

"Tseng, we've got this one here," the redheaded one called, smirk on his face even more infuriating after he jumped Yuffie's sweep-kick effortlessly. "Let us handle the Chinese kid."

As soon as they said that, the dark-haired man and his blonde female counterpart were gone, up the stairs - which was good, because those two weren't nearly so much of a challenge. Not, of course, that they couldn't kill her if she was careless - that thought was interrupted by the flash of a buster sword, and an always-irrepressible grin as another man took the field.

"Hey Reno. Rude," Zack greeted, bringing his sword around for another swing. "Good to know you're still ShinRa's lapdogs as always. You Turks never could think for yourselves, huh?" he mentioned cheerily - and their looks of shock gave Yuffie just enough time to throw off another set of her knives. It was her last set of projectiles - but then, neither of their two opponents now had guns, so she could get out her real knives.

"Took you long enough," Yuffie muttered, shooting her friend a glance as she unsheathed her weapons - but he just grinned at her. He had a talent for that, even in the worst situations.

"So you're turning traitor, then, Zack?" the redheaded one - Reno, she guessed - asked, tapping what looked to be a fancy-assed baton on his shoulder.

"Nope. I'm protesting one of ShinRa's stupider ideas," the captain responded between deep breaths as he swung at the Turks - another moment and Yuffie was down on the floor, one knife in either hand and swiping at their backs. _Thank god for distractions_, she thought to herself as the tip of her blade came away from Rude's arm with bloodied cloth on it.

This was, apparently, enough for them to take her seriously - the redhead's smirk tightened and he flashed around, back to back with his partner.

They were matched then - speed for speed, strength for strength - and they met in a torrent of wills; never slowed by steel or blood, or by despair.

XXX

Watching the battle from above, it was easy for Vincent to notice the darker, quicker figures who flowed in the windows after the Turks - but even he could not dispatch all of them with his pistols, though many fewer would leave than had entered. But they were only dangerous in large numbers, and were occupied with searching the lower level - and it would be wiser to focus on the pair who had detached themselves from the battle below,, The Turks were dangerous in their own right, with their partners or without - and Vincent remembered vividly just how deadly they could be.

The pair flew up the stairs and onto the landing, guns out and ready - but Vincent was faster, shot at the woman Turk and she moved, shot at Tseng and grazed his shoulder, then dodged out of the way of ther answering fire. They turned to him, leaving their backs awkwardly open to the other end of the hall - and Cloud watched the scene from behind them, waiting for the opportune moment to attack.

Vincent saw Tseng's eyes go wide in recognition after passing over the former Turk's clothing and locking on his face. They hadn't known each other back in Vincent's days with ShinRa, not well; but they had known each other's faces. And more importantly, now, he was recognized for what he had done - for the death of Hojo, for his betrayal of everything the Company held dear.

Before either of them had a chance to speak, a silver blade met the air where they had once been - Tseng ducked and brought his gun up for a shot underneath, while the woman jumped lightly off of the ground and over the blade, her own weapon out and firing.

Both Turks finally stopped on Cloud's other side, and they met each other face-to-face for the first time.

"Captain Strife, I am less than pleased to find you here," Tseng intoned, every line of his face making that quite obvious. "This is treason - fighting against ShinRa troops, consorting with a known murderer -"

"Hojo deserved to die," Vincent noted quietly, taking aim at the woman's legs - she would be less trouble if she was incapacitated.

"I never argued that point," Tseng responded as he let off a shot at Cloud's shoulder - and though it ricocheted off the blade and into the wall, the blonde woman's bullet met a mark in the captain's side. It barely impeded his movement, though likely caused him great pain - and he careened forward again, barely avoiding Vincent's bullet.

"But," the Turk continued, "that doesn't change the fact that you are a murderer. Vincent Valentine, your torture at his hands do not give you the power to decide who may live and who may die."

"I will accept that name if it means that no others must endure what I did," Vincent returned, moving quickly enough that only his red cloak was caught by the enemy fire. He barely glanced over in time to see Tseng give the woman a nod.

"Elena," he said, as an order rather than acknowledgement - and she flashed over to the nearest doorway. She opened it and then, glancing inside, moved on to another, searching for the children. Searching for the redhead, for Axel.

Cloud saw it first, and brought his massive sword around to cut at her - but its movement was impeded as it caught on the walls of the too-small hallway, and Tseng impeded its movement by blocking it with the barrel of his pistol, bracing hand only barely cut as he held the weapon in place

Even the former Turk's hasty shot was too late - Vincent knew by the sound of gunfire that she had found her target.

XXX

A chorus of gunfire from outside - downstairs, or maybe up? He couldn't tell - informed Roxas that the battle had started, and his grip on his gun tightened uselessly as he watched the entrance; waiting, knowing. Axel was sitting on the bed, pretending to be comfortable for the blonde's sake - but it was easy to see the tension in his neck, in his back as he faced the door, a gun resting on each leg and pointed exactly where they would need to be if someone entered.

They were lucky the room didn't have windows - if it had, they would have been fucked; if he was gonna have to die, then sniper shot would not be the way he'd pick to go.

But he wouldn't, of course, be the one to choose - the door was flung open before Roxas even had a chance to react; two blasts from a gun - he couldn't tell whose - and the woman who appeared in the entrance was drenched in blood, clutching her stomach as her gun flew away from her grasp. Almost instantly, Axel swiped his revolvers across his sides - he didn't have the time or hands available to cock his guns the usual way - and the realization dawned on Roxas as the woman crumpled to the ground that he had just watched his lover kill someone. The redhead slammed the door shut, and the younger couldn't help but watch breathlessly as the red liquid seeped under the door, and he hugged his brother tighter to him, knowing that it wouldn't be much longer.

XXX

"Reno! I need you up here, now!"

The redhead heard Tseng's exclamation just in time to turn and see Elena crumple to the ground helplessly, bloodstained - and the moment that he moved to help her, he felt the sharp cut of a blade across his back. Ignoring it - it was shallow, wouldn't matter, would heal quickly - he bolted up the stairs and threaded through the battle on the landing so he could reach her, maybe in time.

The Turk could see that the fight was unfair; Tseng versus Cloud Strife - _shit, Strife too? _- and a red-cloaked man, but within moments he had been joined by another five, maybe more, faceless members of Xemnas's Syndicate. In the clash of weapons and the sound of gunfire, Reno just managed to reach the blonde woman before Tseng spoke again.

"Get Elena out - and, also, I need you to tell the Vice-President that Vincent Valentine is here." There was a pause as the dark-haired Turk was hit in the arm - again, it seemed - by Strife's blade. "That may be of some use to us."

Without another word, Reno jumped over the railing and landed, crouched, on the ground before taking off through a window, towards the army.

He was barely even conscious of medics taking her out of his arms, head light as it was from blood loss and the intoxicating thrill of fear and excitement. Somehow, he found Rufus in the throng of boots and helmets and frost-scrabbled steel - standing like a statue in his white, eyes never wavering from their focus until Reno crossed his vision, stopping beside him breathlessly.

"Hey, boss," he greeted with a grin, blood dripping from a cut on his upper lip. "Tseng has some news for ya. And," his expression sobered here, "Elena's down. We're not sure how bad she is, but she's down."

Rufus took that in for a moment.

"And your news was?" the blond asked, nonplussed. Nothing ruffled that exterior.

"Well, he says that Vincent Valentine's in there, and it might be useful to ya. It don't mean much t' me but I figured you'd know what it meant," Reno informed the other with a shrug.

There was a long, awkward silence then, broken only by the sounds of shouting and gunfire from inside. The quiet went on for long enough that the Turk had begun to wonder if he had done something wrong - until, almost faster than the redhead could see, the vice-president's expression had turned to a smile - determined, feral, vicious; but a smile nonetheless.

"You may return to the battle - and give Tseng this message from me."

It was their turn, finally, to win the whole goddamn pot.

XXX

The battle between the Mansion's guard and their opponents quickly turned into a fight of numbers rather than skill - with two of the Turks out of the picture, for the time being at least, they were not the force to be reckoned with. Their men, the disposables - not ShinRa's, from somewhere else - swarmed up the sides; they were incompetent alone, but deadly when together. From behind them, Tseng fired precise shots at his opponents, and though Cloud and Vincent took down one after another, still there seemed to be no end.

The captain swung into the crowd and was gratified to hear the crunch of bone underneath his weapon. He was vaguely aware that there were enemies in the children's doorway, now - but there was little that could be done about that, there were men _everywhere_, bullets all over; in the air, in the walls, in his side and arm.

Just when a path seemed to be clearing - Tseng on the other side, a former ally but now a dangerous enemy - the Turk was joined by another, by Reno, whose grin was only made more disturbing by the blood on his face.

"Hey, I wanna call a time-out for a minute," the redhead called, but Cloud ignored it - the man was not particularly well-known for his honesty. "Not with you, Strife - with your friend over there. Valentine." A pause. "So you wanna hear a proposition?" he asked, and the blonde captain could see Tseng shoot his associate a look of confusion and perhaps frustration.

"We're not interested," Cloud informed the other, taking down another nameless man, "unless it involves you backing off."

"It does," Reno observed, and receiving another glance from Tseng for his troubles. "Sort of, anyway. Just hear me out." He gave a grin to the nameless fighters. "Anyway, we've got this covered here, why don't you go kill somebody else?" he suggested, and within moments they were relatively alone, though Tseng looked like he was about to make Reno the Turks' first friendly fire casualty.

"I talked to the boss, no worries," the redhead muttered to his leader before he turned his sharp gaze back on Vincent, ignoring Cloud for the moment. "Look, buddy. We know you're after ShinRa, am I right? 'Cause old man Hojo did some crazy shit to you."

The former Turk nodded, tense as always but not firing - he, at least, was a man of honor.

"So, we're gonna give you an opportunity to get back at us."

Tseng took this moment to interrupt: "Reno, I _sincerely_ hope that you are doing nothing that would endanger -"

"Don't get yourself in a knot - this is all approved," the redhead shot back, gaze never moving from Vincent. "Anyway, you interested? The deal is this - you get to kill President ShinRa and we don't kill you for it," he drawled, and Cloud stiffened - it seemed like a trap if there ever had been one.

"Why would you offer something like that?" the blonde captain asked, shocked - he had never had any love for the President, but he wouldn't allow any of his men to make that suggestion, either.

"It's simple, Spike," Reno noted with a laugh. "With President ShinRa dead, his son gets the spot. Valentine here gets his revenge and a free pass outta this place."

There was a long quiet.

"If I agree to do this," Vincent began, crimson gaze never shifting, "then I would like for all of the Turks to withdraw, and follow me to the ShinRa building. And I want ShinRa's word that no others will be sent in your place." A pause. "And assure the other men you are fighting with that their services are no longer necessary. It seems like a small enough favor for the service I am about to perform."

He glanced at Cloud, and suddenly the soldier understood; if everything went according to plan, it might just be their saving grace. Maybe the enemy's fighting force would only be halved - but perhaps it would be enough.

"Deal," Reno replied. "But if Elena dies from your goddamn bullets then we're coming back, agreement or no fucking agreement." They both knew from the look in the Turk's eyes that it was the best offer that they were going to get; so Vincent nodded, and suddenly all that was left to Cloud was the faceless men, and his own blood.

XXX

His practiced coldness was evident in everything that the General did, but at least in this case it was only a front for his much less comfortable emotions. He wasn't even sure why he was there, why he had deigned to be a part of the assault even if he wouldn't fight - perhaps it was guilt, a desire to see what his weakness had wrought, and perhaps it was because he was still thinking of a way they could be talked out of their idiocy.

They were wrong, to defend that man - he was an assassin and a murderer, and would have no qualms about killing any of them if it served his purpose. And still, out of some misplaced loyalty, he would not attack them himself. He would not betray a former ally, but he was incapable of defending them either.

_Are you going to stand by and watch as they are torn down? Watch, again, as their friends are torn down? Be the instruments of their destruction._

He had been standing at the head of the unit, but now he began to pace back and forth, frustration and anger rolling off him in waves strong enough to turn even his own troops into cowards. He took one glance at Rufus - cold and implacable in his certainty - and then at the mansion, and told himself that he would wait another moment, another five minutes, to see if they would come to their senses.

_Another five minutes,_ he told himself. _Five minutes and I will choose._

XXX

Breaths misting in the cold, Xemnas and Saïx stood together on the roof of the building directly next to the Mansion - when they made their move, it would be together. Xigbar stood below them - two stories down and ready - with his weapon, an artillery shell capable of a destructive force much greater than anything that the Syndicate had, though he was loathe to admit it.

It was laughable, how ShinRa pandered to the police - apparently they would not fire on the mansion in fear of repercussions. Xemnas himself had no such qualms.

It was only a matter of time - and then a dark figure rushed towards the assassin, bearing the information that they had been waiting for; the location and strength of the Rogue's hideout within the mansion.

Another instant and Xigbar had let his weapon fly, shattering the wall of the mansion with a massive explosion, shards flying everywhere - and into the cloud of gathering dust jumped Saïx and his master, into the room where the Rogue had been found. After all the time he had been the hunter, now he was the prey - and they intended to prove that to him.

XXX

The casualties on the first floor were low, considering everything; Yuffie had only a broken arm - shattered, more like - and Zack was bleeding from his mouth, but as the dead piled on the floor, their injuries began to seem more bearable. It seemed like they were winning, like everything was going _right_ for once in their damned lives -

And then, they heard the explosion. Both spun around to find the source - but they were met, instead, by a man whose face promised not a hint of mercy.

"Name's Xigbar," he drawled, voice raspy from hard use. "Nice to meet you - though I'd guess that our acquaintance won't last very long," he laughed, drawing some kind of weapon - a rifle, maybe - from the sheath on his back. Yuffie shifted her weight and grasped the knife in her still-working hand.

"You good with this, Yuffie?" Zack asked, wiping the trail of blood off his chin with the back of his hand.

"Good with what? Kicking some arrogant bastard's ass? Always," she retorted, and they shot forward in unison, ready to take him apart.

But he just smiled.

XXX

The ShinRa building was not far away from where the battle had been going on, and within ten minutes Vincent and the Turks had reached its foundation, though that was only the beginning - the outer walls stretched to the heavens, higher than any other, in a testament to the company's arrogance. They would not settle for second-best, or simply one of the most powerful - they had to have it all. So, Vincent stood at the bottom, both the agent of that arrogance and the punishment for it - and the hypocrisy was not lost on him, but it did not change what had to be done.

"We will take you through the inside of the company building as our prisoner," Tseng began, taking a pair of handcuffs from his waist and displaying them. "The handcuffs will be left open so that you may take any action you feel to be necessary - and when we get to the floor directly below the President's, you will 'escape' and complete your objective. Is this quite satisfactory?"

Vincent did not respond, but evidently his eyes showed his misgivings quite plainly.

"Please do not be afraid that we will betray you," Tseng responded quietly. "I am a man of my word - I make no promise that I do not fully intend to keep, and my actions to not deviate from that intent." The former Turk paused a moment then, considering - the other's words seemed sincere enough; but more than that, Vincent had very little choice.

"I accept," he responded, hoping that his trust did not lead to his downfall.

Tseng then gave a nod to Reno, who took the handcuffs from his superior's hands and placed them around Vincent's wrists - and the man waited tensely for the telling click of a lock that never came.

"Good luck," the redhead mentioned, and he grinned as they all turned to face down the massive entryway - as traitors or heroes, motivated by redemption, greed, loyalty, or vengeance - it didn't matter, now.

XXX

Fragments of wood pierced Axel's skin as the closest wall suddenly imploded, filling the room with dust and smoke from whatever the _fuck_ it was that had just blown up their fucking wall. He fired off a shot - and another, another - in the direction of the wall, but he heard nothing; no scream, no thud of the bullet hitting something else.

Until suddenly, without warning, he heard another gunshot - and felt a blade at his neck and another gun at his head, neither moving - and when the smoke cleared, he saw Saïx with pistols to the two boys' heads, bleeding from his leg where apparently Roxas had managed to shoot him.

_Fuck yes_, Axel thought with the part of his mind that wasn't frantically trying to find a way out of that situation, a way to save his lover and himself and anything he could save.

"Don't bother trying to struggle," came a voice from behind him - _Xemnas, that bastard - _and the assassin took a sharp breath, knowing that likely as not there were a hundred other men waiting for them, even if they did manage to get past their leader. At least - at the very least, he and Roxas could die together.

"Don't worry, you're not going to die yet," Saïx rumbled from across the room, holstering one gun to take a coil of rope off his shoulder, "Though you'll probably wish you had," he amended, gaze glinting.

Something in Axel regained hope then - the longer Saïx wanted to play with his food, the longer the redhead would have to figure something out.

"Saïx, let's make this urgent," Xemnas said, as he used his own rope to tie Axel's hands together. They were bound within moments, the rope cutting into his wrists unflinchingly. At that, a knife appeared in Saïx's hand, and it was suddenly buried in Roxas's arm, hilt barely visible as it ripped unmercifully through the chin.

His scream then was bone-chilling, pure animal terror mixed in with a pain more intense than anything the boy had ever imagined possible; and Axel felt the bottom drop out of his stomach in a way it never had before. The assassin flipped himself around, pulled himself from Xemnas's grasp and brought a knee up to that man's groin. Roxas's scream had hit something inside of him - something primal, aggressive, angry; and for once in his life he couldn't keep detached from his anger. He couldn't be still, be logical, not when Roxas was _going to die_ and Axel was still alive, when he could still do something that was halfway fucking useful.

And Saïx was across the room, tying him into a chair to prevent further misbehavior before moving to the still-closed door, as a guard. Axel sat directly in front of his lover, but leagues away - positioned so that he could see Roxas's eyes, see the terror in them, the pleading.

"Now that everyone's here, we can get started," Xemnas ordered imperiously. "Because, Axel - you have caused too much trouble to be allowed to simply die."

Axel couldn't stop his heart from pounding, because he knew the sort of torture that would be worse than death.

XXX

The entry hall of the ShinRa building was much the same that days as Vincent remembered it, save for one crucial exception - it was almost completely empty. One secretary stood stiffly at the desk, expression politely vacuous - but none of the usual guards were present, nor were any businessmen in tightly fitted suits wandering the lobby area. He did not ask why this might have been, though Tseng seemed to have caught the minute change in his expression.

"The army is currently at the McCarthy mansion," Tseng explained, stepping quickly across the tile and up one of two grand staircases that framed the whole hall. "We did not expect the President to return so quickly," he continued, face impassive - but his hidden meaning was clear. Now that the elder ShinRa had returned, it made for the perfect opportunity - an opportunity that Rufus, with his cold-hearted ambition, could not pass by.

Vincent nodded wordlessly - there was nothing more to be said that the other men did not already know - and walked forward, flanked by both Rude and Reno, silently grateful that his handcuffs were loose. He did not like this place - it brought back too many memories, both of hurt and happiness. He chose not to remember either.

They took the elevator shaft to the floor just below the President ShinRa's office - the Turks would not want to be associated with the murder, of course - and here they saw the first guards. Suddenly, as a burst out of nowhere, Vincent ripped free of his handcuffs - all present watched him, frozen in surprise; though that was clearly an act in the case of the Turks.

He whirled around to face them even as the guards were scrabbling for their weapons, his cloak floating menacingly behind him, and targeted a precise backhand to two inches from Tseng's head. The man took the hint and crumpled to the side as if he had been hit. Reno and Rude pulled out the guns that they never used, and proceeded pretend like they were trying to hit Vincent - and in the commotion, the dark-haired man flowed over to the guards and incapacitated them.

"What, you're not gonna kill 'em?" the redhead asked with surprise as he exchanged his gun for his baton.

"I do not kill when I can easily do otherwise," the former Turk responded tonelessly as he swept forward to the stairs that would lead up to the ShinRa president's office.

"Well, good to know. We're gonna be down here pretending like you knocked us out, if ya don't mind. Kill the guards on the inside, though, will ya?" he asked with a little smirk that left Vincent unsure of whether the purpose was security or some petty vengeance. It didn't particularly matter, however - he would do as asked.

He was up the stairs with a remarkable speed for one so laden down with heavy clothing, and pulled the office door open even as he took his Death Penalty from its holster.

The two guards in the room were hardly unaware, so when Vincent gave his first shots they returned their own in kind and moved out of the way skillfully as the former Turk darted into the room. Their shots hit nothing but his cloak - part of its purpose was to obscure his true form, and it performed that admirably - but Vincent's next shot hit one, then another, and they were down. His attention could then turn to other matters.

The corpulent President was not an imposing man, nor had he ever been - and he was even less so as he cowered in the seat at his desk, sweating in terror.

"You are," he breathed, still trembling and eyes wide, "You're Vincent Valentine. You're Hojo's murderer."

"Yes," Vincent responded, "I removed him from this world, and now I will do the same to you. Your crime was perhaps even greater than his," he murmured, and meant every word.

"Listen, I'll pay you anything, just let me -"

"Money is not an adequate repayment for the torture you have inflicted upon me and upon countless others," Vincent returned, though he felt surprisingly little anger, now that he was there - on the threshold of his revenge.

He let his bullet fly - and forced himself to watch as the former President ShinRa died, lifeblood seeping out through the gash in his already damp forehead.

Vincent felt no catharsis, no great sense of relief after the man's death - it was simply another killing, another death in a long series that had led up to this moment. The blood on his hands was already thick enough that even another man's life was only a drop in the sea - and Vincent couldn't help but wonder, as he flew down the stairs back to where the Turks were waiting, if he had done right.

XXX

The battle had lasted for perhaps a half hour when Cloud was shocked from the mind-numbing routine of one slice after another by the sound of shattering wood; a blast that froze his heart in terror, from the direction of the children's room.

He rushed towards the sound as swiftly as his legs would take him, but he was met in a rush by a new wave of enemies - the ones, he noted as he recognized one man's face, who had left at the Turks' request. The captain felt another bullet lodge itself in his leg - but he kept on, killing one and knocking another over the rail and to his death. Despite everything he was doing, he couldn't help the feeling that however quickly he made it there, he was going to be too late.

Finally - after one step, and another, too long between them and between each roaring heartbeat - he reached the door, but as he opened it a man slid fluidly in front of him and pressed knives to his neck, faster than vision could allow. The doorway was too small for the captain to move his sword for a proper swing, so he dropped the buster sword and brought his arms in for a quick punch - but the man dug his fingers viciously into one of Cloud's bullet wounds, deep enough to touch the fractured bone.

The moment of pained hesitation that caused was more than enough; the unknown man twisted the blonde's arm around behind him and brought the knife up to slit his opponent's throat before words from the interior of the room interrupted him;

"Saïx," a deep voice rumbled, and Cloud looked up to see Roxas and Sora - bloody but still breathing - immobile from restraints, and another cruel-eyed man standing by Axel, murder in his every expression. "Leave him alive for now. We will allow ShinRa's vagrant captain to watch before he dies."

The blonde's gaze turned to Axel, then, though he didn't know what he was hoping to find - and Cloud saw no hope in those eyes. No hope, perhaps, but determination.

XXX

The Turks returned within a half hour from their duties, allowing Vincent to slip back into the mansion, unseen. They appeared at the side of their Vice President - no, the President now.

"So, boss," Reno noted, running a hand through his tousled hair, "I heard a rumor that you just got a promotion. How'z it feel?"

"Wonderful," Rufus returned, not allowing himself to smile or give any other reaction. "Now, my first order as President is this - as soon as this battle is over, if the Rogue survives - I want you to hunt him down and kill him."

Tseng seemed to be the most reluctant about this; "Mr. President, sir - with all due respect, we promised to leave Valentine and the family alone after he performed this favor for us."

Rufus shrugged carelessly.

"Leave Valentine and the family alone if you have to; I know you hate breaking your word - but you never made any promises with regards to this Axel. Take him out," the blond man ordered, and the Turks nodded in assent - it was not their place to question the commands of Rufus ShinRa.

XXX

A thousand images assaulted Vincent's mind at once as he entered the Mansion's entryway, like silent, breathing snapshots - Yuffie, unmoving on the floor; Zack, panting, sword up like a shield as he regained his strength; a man with blood in his smile, though the blood of others - someone's life running down the stairs in abstract trickles. He had only had enough time to turn on Zack's opponent before they were joined, by a familiar presence at their backs. Evidently the Turks had shorter memories than they professed.

"I see the Turks have lost their honor since I was a member," Vincent murmured, barely taking the time to glance behind him - though Zack flipped around, still in a crouch, to face his former allies.

"We will not break an oath unless you force us," Tseng's voice noted from somewhere behind them - at least they had that much humanity left to them. "We are here prevent the Rogue from escaping alive.. We have no desire to fight with you."

"Nice thought and all, but we're here to stop you if you're here to kill him," the dark-haired captain chimed in, still smiling despite the toll that the fights had taken on him. "We'd look like idiots if we just went and let you have your way now, wouldn't we? I mean, it'd all be pretty pointless," he noted, hefting his buster sword up into a better position for fighting.

_Yes_, Vincent thought, glance flashing over to Yuffie - she was still breathing, but perhaps not for much longer if she could not be helped. _All of this pain would be for nothing if we gave up on our goals at this instant._

He pulled out the knives hidden under his cloak then, because out of everything with which he had begun, only one bullet was left - and he knew exactly where it would be most effective.

XXX

A cold silence fell over the room as Roxas saw Cloud struggling against Saïx's grasp and threat - but he wasn't really watching, couldn't really watch, because the pain in his arm was so staggering it left his mind numb. Blood seeped down his clothes and stained the bed, but he really couldn't care less about that because right here, right now, he knew he was going to watch Axel die, watch Cloud die, watch his _brother _die and he would be completely and utterly helpless.

There was honestly nothing in the world more terrifying than this situation - being in danger, and unable to actually do anything about it, to help anyone or change anything at all.

"So then, we begin," Xemnas declared tonelessly, and Roxas stiffened at the sound of his too-cold voice. His almost yellow eyes turned piercingly on to the blonde - and the boy met them with all the strength he could muster.

"To the boy named Roxas," the elder continued, voice uncaring but expression telling, "This, then, will all fall on you."

Axel's eyes shot up like that, and suddenly again he was struggling in his chair, against his restraints with that same wild look in his eyes.

"_You fucking __**bastard,"**_he snarled, face contorted with the force of his rage, "_I'm _the one who's been fucking with you this whole time, _leave him the hell __**outta **__this!"_

"I suggest you keep any future such outbursts to yourself, unless you want everyone to die here and now." Xemnas paused then, his cold expression turning slowly into a sharp smirk. "As it is, I am giving you an opportunity to live. You should be grateful."

Roxas shivered in terror more complete than he had ever felt before - the sadistic smile behind the Syndicate leader's words betrayed their intent. But his scowl didn't leave his face even once, and he struggled silently against his bonds, not wanting to hear what the other man had to say next.

"Because you, Roxas, will be allowed to make a choice based on the answer of this question." Saïx laughed softly, cruelly, as his master's words filled the room. "Of the two of these; of your brother, who has stayed with you all of his life and been your best friend; and your lover, who has given up everything he had to protect you - who do you care about most?"

The blonde could feel his heart beating its way out of his chest, and all of his frustration, his rage and the sensation of a steel blade in his flesh, all congealed in a lump at the back of his throat.

He had thought that it wasn't possible to be any more terrified than he had been before - but proving him wrong was apparently something those bastards did for kicks.

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" Roxas shot back, never one to let anyone know that he was scared fucking shitless. "Why do you want to know, you sick bastard?"

"Because," Xemnas returned, voice ominous and deadly, "your choice will determine which of the two lives, and which of the two dies."

The boy could feel his face go pale, and the tremors begin to run down his body - he saw Sora, restrained and breathing hard from fright - Axel, watching him with this intent look of pain that Roxas could hardly stand.

"You sadistic fucking son of a bitch," the redhead murmured, hatred in every breath. "There aren't enough words in the whole goddamn world for you."

Xemnas ignored him, though his knife pressed up harder against the man's skin, and blood welled to the surface in a crimson pool.

"Now, Roxas, before I lose my patience. Choose."

XXX

XXX

…I hope you don't hate me for this. Please don't hate me. I love you?

In other news, sorry for the late update… *bows* Complications arose, ensued, and were overcome. And sorry for the extra super-long chapter. 12,000 words according to my word processor, 13,000 according to FFN.

Also... If you have favorited this and not yet left a comment, I would be immensely grateful if you would... Sorry, just a request!

Comments are love!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

After so long fighting - Zack didn't know how long, and couldn't find it in himself to care - conscious thought processes shut down and the automatic stepped in, because he wasn't even quite able to think anymore, everything too much to contemplate. He was having trouble moving by this point - the world screamed around him as the images smoothed and merged together, blood dripping from gashes and into his eyes until he couldn't quite get rid of it, a red film over his vision, coating everything in the color.

The Turks were at their backs, and they stood and watched with cold eyes as their former allies met their fates - and they wouldn't move to help or to fight anyone, in any way, because they followed orders unquestioningly and that was _it. _They didn't move, because it wasn't their place to question right or wrong, because they were Turks and that family meant more to them than the right thing or the wrong thing or anything else at all - in his foggy mind Zack couldn't bring himself to blame them because for him, his ideals and loyalty were one and the same and he never had to fight one for the other.

He didn't move, only panted as thoughts paced through his head in a meaningless montage, and Vincent was fighting now - or was he? Zack could hardly tell - and only the faint outline of a cloak remained because it was the same color as the blood in his eyes - and he couldn't see where one started and the other ended. Possibly, in the distance, a shot went off - no, an explosion, too loud to be a shot - but that could have been the sound of his body giving up on him, or his blood-deprived mind telling him things that weren't really happening. But all thoughts of that were gone as the bloody blur that might have been Zack's ally moved at Xigbar - they moved together and there was a glint of metal there _somewhere_, a weapon. Watching, the former ShinRa captain had the hazy thought that right then, right there, they were both probably going to die.

_Maybe soon,_ Zack thought to himself through the haze, _but not now. Not yet._ _I won't let it happen_.

The captain hauled himself up off the ground for one final run, and his opponent turned slowly - too slowly - and then the door opened or fell apart or came apart or died, and this was the man's undoing because the sound of wood and iron falling to the floor was enough of a distraction for Vincent to fire one final bullet into that bastard's heart.

And Zack, through a great force of will, stayed standing. Now was not his time.

XXX

The sound of a shell bursting caught Sephiroth by surprise, breaking him from his reverie as the adrenaline brought back memories of his days in the Army. He could not see the explosion - he knew from the sound that it would be coming from behind the mansion - but the smoke from it floated upwards, outwards, and the General drew in a sharp breath.

That was the moment when he realized that there was no more time left for him to waver - the longer he waited, the more likely it was that Zack and Cloud would not live to speak to him again. He couldn't just brush off responsibility for this, say that it was orders and that he had no option - it was still, in the end, his own decision.

He strode forward past the army, ignoring the hushed whispers and the feeling of Rufus ShinRa's suspicious gaze on the back of his head. He would not walk over the fence, or take in any measure the coward's way; he drew his Masamune faster than vision could catch - and the gate hung, suspended in the air, for a moment before crashing to the ground in pieces, iron twisting, deforming under its own weight. Sephiroth strode fearlessly through the dust and to the front entry - and it met the same fate as the gate, crumbling from a hundred invisible slashes and falling away to nothing.

He stepped into the entryway in just enough time to see Vincent Valentine put a bullet in a man's heart - and Zack was frozen, panting, on the other side. The man was more exhausted than Sephiroth ever remembered seeing him before, bloodier than he'd ever been - but now was not the time to worry. Neither he nor Cloud were yet out of danger.

The General stepped forward purposefully now, pushing past the Turks who watched him with a mixture of surprise and anger.

"Zack," he began, stopping beside his friend for a moment, just long enough to see if the other man was alright.

"Oh, Seph?" the other man returned, though his breathing was labored and his eyes unfocused. "So you made it after all."

"I have made my decision," Sephiroth responded, and that was all the explanation that was needed - the captain smiled a little bit, leaning on his Buster sword for support because he was simply too stubborn to kneel.

"Good," the man slurred, using all of his energy to keep himself upright. "Now… Spike. He's upstairs," Zack informed the other as best as he could - and that was as much as Sephiroth needed, because he could feel the portent in his gut. It occurred to him, looking at the destruction as he mounted the stairs, that even his arrival would not be enough.

XXX

"Choose, Roxas," Xemnas repeated, and the boy's vision flashed with every clashing beat of his heart. He couldn't thing, and his ears filled with a ringing sound that he almost couldn't hear past.

"Roxas, you don't have to do this," came Sora's small voice from beside him - "You don't have to choose. Any minute now somebody will be up here and they'll get him for what he's doing. We don't - we don't know that he'll do what he says he will…" His voice drifted off then, and Roxas could feel his brother's body trembling beside him. Blood dripped down and soaked the rope that bound their wrists, and the blonde realized that it was not his own - his brother had been hurt, maybe _badly_, in the explosion, and he hadn't even realized.

"You must choose - if you wait, both of them will die," Xemnas's accomplice rumbled from where he was holding Cloud, his fingers still in the soldier's bullet-wound and cross-shaped scar practically glowing.

"And I will do as promised," Xemnas stated coldly, "because you will suffer for what you have done. For the rest of your life - and it will be long - you will have to live with your decision. You will know that _you_ killed the one you care for less, know that it was _your choice _that caused him to die - and if you do not choose, know that it was _your indecision_ that killed them."

Images churned in Roxas's mind, memories and thoughts, shared dreams - and they caught in his throat as they passed. He was sure he was crying now, but it didn't matter anymore - he knew, and had known from the beginning, exactly what he had to do.

"Axel," he croaked, trembling like foam in a tempest. Xemnas, without a word, began to move across the room towards Sora, his knife out and ready; but before he could take a step, Roxas continued. "Axel, I'm _sorry,_" he said, shakily meeting Axel's bottle-shard eyes with his own. "I'm _so sorry, _but -"

Behind those eyes, through the pain and sadness and anger - Roxas could see that his lover understood. Axel understood what the boy was going to do, and why it had to be done.

"I choose Sora," the boy said, voice shaking. "This is what you wanted anyway, isn't it? You get to kill Axel, I live with my guilt the rest of my life. Fine, you win," he hissed through his tears, in a final act of defiance.

The sound of his voice was almost drowned out then by Sora's guttural, animal noise - a sound too primal to even have a name. "No, no Roxas, don't do this," the brunette moaned, voice growing louder with the force of his despair. "Don't - you don't have to choose me, you don't have to choose at all -"

"Xemnas," Axel interrupted, the force of his determination back in his voice. "Do it," he ordered, then turned his gaze again to Roxas. "I'm not gonna let you reconsider this, Roxas. Just…" The assassin's voice broke then, and through the crack in his resolve the blonde could see the other's raw, heart-rending pain. "Just… don't spend the rest of your life thinkin' about it, ok? That's all I ask," he said, and his resignation was evident in every line of his body. From the corner of his eye, Roxas could see Cloud making one last desperate attempt to escape - the knife flew out of his captor's hand, but the other was the stronger nonetheless. Cloud's head crashed into the wall with a force that crushed the wood, and he didn't move again.

"I promise I won't," Roxas choked, lying as best he could as he watched Axel for the last time. Frantically, his desperate mind clung onto the last thread of hope he could find, grasping at anything that might make this make more sense. "And… And we might see each other again, right? Someday. When I die."

"Dumbass," his lover responded fondly. "You and me aren't goin' to the same place."

He laughed then - a bitter, half-hearted chuckle - as that knife moved away in preparation for the killing stroke. Through it all, the determined look in his eyes never wavered - and Roxas realized that he would always love the man for that.

XXX

A searing pain as Cloud's head crashed against the wall was his only reward for his desperate attempt to not be helpless, to save someone - but then he never could, never had been able to save anyone. He realized as he tried to move, to get up again, that he couldn't - he was paralyzed, forced to watch helplessly as Sora and his brother waited for their end.

It was something he couldn't watch, didn't want to watch - Axel's death, the look on Roxas's face, on Sora's face. But he kept his eyes open - he would face his failure. Penance, of a sort, for those he could not save. He would face this Xemnas, this murderer, as he killed the hope in those two brothers' eyes.

Then, flashing from beyond Cloud's blackening vision, a sword burst through Xemnas's stomach and sliced upward - and there was no mistaking whose it was, even before the body was flung off of the blade and its wielder revealed. In the space between moments, suddenly everything was over - Saïx's gutted carcass fell to the floor beside Cloud, and lay there as if he had been a butchered animal.

Suddenly, it was over, and that rush of relief was almost as painful to his injured body as the fear had been, and he could feel himself beginning to lose consciousness. Even through the ringing in his ears and the too-crowded darkness of his vision, the former captain managed to make out when Sephiroth turned to him and put a hand on the blonde's pulse.

"I had feared that my change of heart had come too late," the General murmured, half to himself and half to shell-shocked men nearby.

_No, _Cloud responded silently, ineffectively willing his mouth to move even as his thoughts faded. _It's never too late._

XXX

Silence hung in the air with an almost physical presence as Sephiroth effortlessly sliced through the ropes on the captives' wrists - but Roxas felt nothing as his bindings fell away. He didn't have the emotional capacity for relief, or even surprise, after everything.

Maybe help had come from an unexpected quarter, but the boy still refused to let himself believe that they were all still alive. It was too surreal - there he was, looking at the place where the wall of his house had once been, and struggling with guilt that he knew was completely, _totally_ deserved.

There was almost nothing that could be said at this point - nothing that could brush away the enormity of what had just happened. Axel watched him from across the room, mouth tight, but the boy didn't even want to _think_ about what that meant.

"Roxas," Sora murmured from beside him, and suddenly the brunette's arms were around him like he'd never let go again. With that, the throttling quiet was broken - and the small rustling noises the General took Cloud away took the edge off of the choking stillness. None of them could have stood the stifled air any longer.

Before the silence had a chance to return, Roxas took a deep breath and spoke: "I'm sorry," he said, as if that was enough to cover up what had just happened. "I'm so fucking sorry, Axel." He focused on the ground, refusing to meet his lover's eyes, and Sora's hands clenched even tighter in his shirt.

"I'm… I'm not asking you to forgive me," he continued hoarsely, "but I…" He drifted off then, unsure of what to say - but his heart pounded as he waited for a response to all that he hadn't said. The silence lasted for too long - far too long - and he looked up once he just couldn't take anymore.

Axel sat still, perfectly still, on the chair he had been about to die in barely minutes before; but this time, there was a grin on his face. It was a disbelieving, pained, half-crazed expression - but it was something.

"You're alive," he laughed, and the sound was almost deranged in its wild enthusiasm. "You're alive, Roxas. You're alive. I'm alive."

The blonde stopped for a moment in pure shock - that had hardly been the reaction he'd been expecting. Sora sat up then, back rigidly straight, and the blonde could feel his brother's searching gaze on the both of them.

"…Are you gonna say anything else?" Roxas muttered, knowing he had to get this over with. "I mean, I almost just…"

Instantly, Axel was across the room, his arms wrapped around his lover and face buried in the boy's hair.

"I'll worry about that when I've got any worry left in me," the redhead responded, quietly. "Tomorrow, or probably even farther away than that, I'll be able to work up the excess energy to worry about what just happened. Not now," he breathed, and Roxas could feel the warmth of it. "You're still alive. That's enough for today."

"For today," Roxas agreed after a moment, and he felt Sora's comforting hand on his shoulder. Maybe the feeling triggered something in the blonde, or maybe he couldn't keep himself wound up any longer - but without warning, the wave of relief he'd been fighting off finally caught him. He crumpled into his lover's embrace wordlessly, forgetting the throbbing pain in his arm and the blood on Axel's chest and everything that either of them had done - for at least that one instant, nothing else mattered.

XXX

It was kind of surprising, really - Reno had never expected to see the cold, dispassionate General show anything close to simple, human emotion. Once again, he was proved wrong - being right had never been his strong suit, but seeing General Sephiroth carrying Cloud Strife down the sweeping staircase had broken any expectation he had ever had.

"It's over," Sephiroth intoned before any of the Turks could say a word, silk voice booming across the open entryway. "I suggest you leave." This was said so forcefully that the redhead almost had to look over at his leader for instructions.

"We have our orders," Tseng responded, and Rude pushed his sunglasses up his nose. "If the Rogue is not dead -"

"He is not, and it would be _best_ -" the emphasis here was pretty ominous "- if you allowed him to remain that way."

"Whoa, whoa," Reno began, tapping his baton against his shoulder absently, "that sounded an awful lot like a _threat_, General. And we'd _hate_ to have to report that to the boss, wouldn't we, partner?" he mentioned conversationally, with a glance at Rude. It wasn't precisely that they were making a threat of their own - one didn't threaten the Silver General - but the man was coming down the stairs with a guy who'd been fighting the Turks like a mad dog when they'd still been in the fight.

"You will not need to report it to Rufus ShinRa or anyone else," Sephiroth replied, eyes gleaming. "I am going to tell him myself."

That left the Turks in stunned silence for a moment, though apparently not anyone in the room - Zack Fair, barely able to support himself even leaning on his buster sword that was embedded in the ground, had begun to laugh.

"I never thought I'd hear you say anything like that in my life, Seph," the dark-haired captain informed the other with a genuine, if shaky, grin. "If I could move, we'd go tell him together, you crazy son of a bitch."

"President ShinRa will not listen to the words of traitors," Tseng said darkly. "Nor will he give in to your demands."

"Y'know, if you're gonna call it treason when I decide not to kill people who don't deserve it, I'm pretty ok with that," Zack remarked, every word squeezed out like it was an effort just to move his lips. "And anyway, we're not going to talk to the president, Seph said he was gonna… gonna go have a word with the Vice-President-"

"Who just got a promotion," Reno interrupted easily. "_President_ ShinRa is right outside and waiting for us to come out and report our glowing success. Wouldn't want to disappoint him."

"You might also keep in mind that the ShinRa army is _also_ waiting outside," Tseng noted, never moving. "We have the strategic advantage."

Sephiroth hadn't stopped in his motion forward until that moment, when he was directly in front of the leader of the Turks - despite the fact that he was carrying a fallen comrade, he was still a powerfully intimidating man.

"Do you really think that any of your troops would have the courage to shoot at me?" he sneered, arrogant in the way only Sephiroth could be.

"Don' even bother, man," Zack laughed raggedly. "Once Seph has his mind set on something, y'just don't get him to move."

"President ShinRa will see the benefits of following my… suggestions, if he is a wise man," Sephiroth informed them, and walked out the destroyed front door. Though Tseng flanked him as he walked, none of them were under the illusion that it would do them any good at all. Though the man may have been an arrogant ass, his confidence was hardly misplaced - and the Turks knew that as well as any.

XXX

"I would like to know," Rufus spat, expression murderous, as Sephiroth walked up to him imperiously, "exactly what you thought that you were going to accomplish by this, _General._ I'm sorry, _former_ General."

"I believe I made that decision on my own when I walked into that building, ShinRa," the dark-clad man responded, silently waiting for the man in his arms to take each successive breath. "I will now call the army back to their regular duties, if you don't do it yourself immediately."

"What makes you think you have the authority -"

"President ShinRa," Sephiroth interrupted, "if you order your troops to shoot me now, I will still have more than enough time to kill all four of your Turks and _you_."

They met each other's eyes for a moment, neither backing down.

"Was that a threat, Sephiroth?"

"It was a promise of retribution." He paused for a long moment, staring out among the troops as he waited for the opportune moment. "Your decision here was unwise," he finally continued. "The Rogue has no intention of attacking you or your corporation further until you threaten him, and the leaders of both organizations you hoped to impress are dead. There is no further reason to fight."

He turned again to the troops, and his voice carried over the whole platoon.

"ShinRa has lost here. Move out, soldiers," he intoned, and Rufus made no attempt to stop him. He watched, detached, as they filed out - and felt the other man's anger burning itself into his shoulder. But the ire of men such as the young president had never slowed Sephiroth before, and it wouldn't now.

XXX

Now that he had time to look for such things, Sora noticed that if he looked out of the gaping maw that had once been the wall of the mansion in just the right way, he could see the ShinRa army gathered outside in a flurry of granite silence. But one thing caught his eye after a long moment - movement, in the back, as the sea of men trickled back out the way they had come.

"Roxas, Roxas - Axel," he laughed, the light in his eyes one of almost hysterical joy, "They're leaving. God, they're leaving. Every one of them." The ones, he supposed, who weren't corpses in front of their doorway - he fought off the sickness that thought brought for long enough to give them a long smile.

"…You mean we're safe? Really safe, forever?" Roxas asked, breathless.

"I wouldn't go that far," Axel returned, still holding onto his lover like he never wanted to do anything else. "Not forever, maybe. But for now."

And for the first time since Sora had known him, the tension went out of Axel's shoulders as he stood.

"We should probably… Well, we should go see how everyone else is doing." Sora's voice was suddenly and startlingly quiet. "See if everybody else is ok, you know?" A beat. "I hope Cloud wasn't… too badly hurt."

"Ah, that son of a bitch's head is way too hard to let something like a little fall hurt 'im," Axel drawled with a lazy sort of smile, and it was good to hear, even if Sora knew the optimism was mostly for his benefit. "And anyway, nobody dies when the Silver General wants you not to. He probably just glares until the guy comes back to life. Everybody's afraid of the General - even death itself."

"I'm not," Roxas muttered with a scowl, standing up himself. "That fucking asshole of a -"

"Everybody except for Roxas," the redhead amended with a grin, heading towards the door, and Sora laughed despite his nerves. "Anyway, let's go see if there's anythin' we can do to help."

"What," began the younger blonde with a feigned surprise, "You mean you're actually going to help people? People you've never met before?"

"Yeah well, everybody has their crazy moments," Axel responded - and the tension in the room was lightened, even for just that moment. With every moment that went by, a feeling crept, slowly but noticeably, over him - that everything was going to be alright in the end.

XXX

The stench of blood was so thick on the air that Roxas was almost sick from it as soon as he walked out the door - and the fact that Axel was seemed completely unaffected was a bit disturbing, even if it was to be expected. As always, the redhead walked in front, stepping carefully over corpses with his weapons at the ready - he was prepared, as always, for any lingering unpleasantness. For a moment, Roxas wondered what he would be like if he let his guard down - completely and totally, even just once.

But that was a thought for later - later, when they weren't so pumped full of adrenaline that they couldn't feel anything at all. When there weren't still tearstains lining Roxas's cheeks - when he'd been forgiven, or forgiven himself, for what he'd tried to do.

His thoughts were pulled away from that train of thought as Vincent appeared out of nowhere, without warning, graceful and silent.

"They are gone," the man intoned, his normally smooth voice as haggard as his breathing. "The ShinRa have conceded defeat, and the others appear to have retreated as well. For the moment, at least, you are safe," he said, taking a ragged breath.

"You should probably see a doctor about that whole breathing thing, y'know," Axel drawled. "Thanks for the heads up, though. Appreciate it."

Vincent gave a nod in acknowledgment.

"There were not enough medics on site to take care of myself and the other injured. The others were far less fortunate than I."

Roxas raised an eyebrow in disbelief - sure, this guy was good, but he didn't seem like he was so far above everybody else's level that he'd hardly be injured when everyone else was probably incapacitated.

"And by this you mean?" the blonde asked, surveying the carnage and seeing Zack's buster sword still implanted in the ground.

"I was… otherwise occupied, for most of the battle," the pale man responded, unnatural crimson gaze never wavering.

"Uh-huh," Axel responded, disparaging. "So you ran away or something and let everybody else take the hit for you?"

Vincent winced at that, and Roxas could feel his scowl deepen - clearly that hit a nerve. If that was what had actually happened, the man definitely wasn't going to escape with as few wounds as he had now.

"Not precisely. I drew the Turks away from the battle. They asked me to assassinate President ShinRa in return for their absence, and I agreed."

Well. That was unexpected.

"Izzat so," Axel responded with a small laugh. "Wasn't that what you were going for all along? But anyway, you win it all when you can. Good for you."

"How are Zack and Yuffie?" Sora asked, and his brother could hear the worry in the other's voice. "Neither of them are… are they?"

"Neither are dead," Vincent confirmed, in a tone of what might have sounded like relief, if his face had moved at all to accommodate the emotion. "The ShinRa medics are caring for them until such a time as they can be transferred to a hospital."

"Oh, that's good to know," the brunette responded, and then his voice fell off, as if he had tried to take a step up a stair and misjudged the distance. The reason for the sudden hitch in his thoughts was clear enough - neither he nor anyone else knew what came after. Even the best-laid plans had ended with the assault - the assumption that they would die during the attack had been fairly universal.

The mansion had been destroyed, Axel's identity revealed - and they had nowhere to go.

"So, uh," Roxas began, looking from Axel to Vincent and back again, "What do we do now?"

"Hadn't thought that far," the redhead responded.

Vincent cut in then: "You will have to think carefully on that, but in the interim - I suggest that we use Cloud Strife's living arrangements, as he will not be able to do so himself."

"Yeah, sounds good," the assassin agreed - and Roxas took this last moment to examine the only place he had ever lived, his home for so many years.

Perhaps this wasn't the best way to remember his home - broken to ash and cluttered with silent tombstones - but it was somehow necessary. It was a reminder, he supposed, of the cost of arrogance; the cost of believing oneself superior to others. And also, conversely, a reminder that hope is never wasted, and that no result is ever inevitable.

And that, at least, was a comforting thought.

XXX

The morning of the second day after the battle found Sephiroth still sitting by Cloud's bed in the hospital, watching the man's immobile face as he slept. The former general wasn't precisely sure why he was still there - waiting somewhere else would be acceptable, and much more comfortable - but he knew that the blonde's current situation was his fault. His indecision had led directly to this man's injury.

"Hey, Seph," came a voice from the door, and he looked up to see Zack leaning in the doorway. So he'd finally been released, then. "In your usual mood, I see." He took a step forward, examining the blonde on the bed carefully.

"No change, then?" the dark-haired man asked, and put a hand on Cloud's forehead. "No fever, though. That's good."

"They've been keeping him asleep," Sephiroth explained, not moving. "The doctors do not wish for him to leave before he's ready."

"I guess that makes sense. Spike has no great love for doctors. Not surprising, really." Zack plopped down in the chair on the other side of the blonde's bed, bright blue eyes meeting with Sephiroth's own.

"So… Whatcha thinkin' about?" the man probed, scrutinizing the other man with more intensity than he was precisely comfortable with.

He didn't answer for a moment.

"You're not going to ask me why I came to the mansion? Or… why I didn't come earlier?" Sephiroth murmured, watching the ground so he didn't have to meet the other man's eyes.

"Nah," Zack returned, a smile in his voice. "The way I figure it, you came when we needed it. Spike and I made our own decisions, even knowing we were fighting the corporation. You're an asshole, but we knew that already - and you're an asshole who likes us anyway. That's enough for me."

There was a long quiet, and Sephiroth gave his friend a searching look - but he knew already that Zack was as honest as men came. He wouldn't say a thing like that if he didn't mean it.

"You didn't answer my question, though," the former captain noted with a laugh. "You're not deterring me that easy. You've been brooding there for days, now - what are you thinking about?"

"Nothing of importance," Sephiroth responded, though he knew it was a lie. "Just thinking."

"Bullshit," Zack replied with a grin.

This was the disadvantage of having friends, Sephiroth supposed - but the connection came with so much more. That made it worth the sacrifice.

"…I was thinking about Cloud," he finally returned, his face betraying nothing.

"Yeah? And?" his friend prompted, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "I know I'm only getting half the story here."

"…May I ask you a question?" the former general finally ventured haltingly, tentative on unfamiliar ground.

"Shoot."

"Shortly before I left, I overheard Cloud speaking with one of the McCarthy children." A beat. "He asked if Cloud was still in love with me," he continued, letting out a deep breath he'd been holding even as he heard Zack take one in. "I wanted to know if his query had any basis in fact."

The moment stretched on like it had no right to, breathless and awkward, and Sephiroth watched as a series of unrecognizable emotions flashed across his friend's eyes.

"Yeah," he said after a long moment. "Yeah, it does." He stopped for a moment, shaking his head in apparent disbelief. "Shit, you weren't supposed to find out like this, Seph. But I guess… " he drifted off, and within moments a look of resolution had settled itself on his face.

"Cloud's been desperately in love with you since way before I ever met him - since back when you were in the US army, before Hojo made you transfer to ShinRa. He joined the army because you were in it, transferred to ShinRa because you did, and has spent his whole life watching you with more devotion than I've ever seen in _anyone_ before or am likely to see in the future.

"Just because he made the decision to do something you wouldn't approve of, that he was even willing to fight you if he had to, doesn't mean he doesn't still love you. He's just -" Zack's voice shook a little here, and he watched the blonde with a fond smile.

"Having to fight you would have hurt him as much as anything he's ever done - but he's selfless enough that he was willing to do that, if it meant saving people who deserved to be saved."

Sephiroth couldn't find the strength to say a word in the silence that followed, completely dumbfounded in the wake of such an admission.

"So… um," Zack said awkwardly, scratching his neck in a nervous gesture. "Now you know, huh?" he said with a small laugh, openly meeting the former general's gaze.

Yes, he knew - and that left him with the unsettling question of what, exactly, he was going to do about it. In the curious way of uncomfortable questions, the answers had left him even less certain of his path than he had been before.

XXX

None of their comrades had yet been released out of the hospital when Axel finally had a fucking brilliant thought - it had been a while since his last one, and he was beginning to be kind of annoyed at their absence.

"Roxas," he began with a grin that was more genuinely mischievous than any he had worn in a long while. The blonde looked up from his book with an impassive look. "Roxas, Roxas - I know what we're gonna do."

"And that is?"

"We're gonna get the fuck out of this place. You're going to go to the bank, have every penny you own transferred to Switzerland, and we're gonna hop a boat to England."

The boy didn't say anything at first - the idea of leaving behind everything he'd ever known, leaving before his parents' memorial services, was probably startling at best. But the fact was that you never really knew when somebody or another was gonna decide to take some revenge for comrades or family killed. Better get out of the country before that happened.

"Where we're going to do what, exactly?" the blonde responded after a moment. Both Sora and Vincent looked over then, waiting for the redhead's answer.

"We're gonna live off your trust fund for a bit, first of all - then, I dunno. We'll move around Europe - I've always wanted to go to Italy or Russia or somethin'. I'll take some jobs as a bodyguard here and there so we don't run out of cash, and you can do odd jobs if ya get bored," Axel returned, hands moving in emphasis - for the first time what seemed like forever, he was full of the manic energy that Roxas seemed to bring out in him so well.

"And Sora?" the boy asked, a glint in his eye - and Axel knew then; their thought processes had synched in just the way he had known they would. He'd sensed it that first day, when he first saw Roxas - all anger and flashing snarls, with a fierceness too strong for his small frame - he knew that they would _understand_ each other.

They'd raise fucking hell together, in the best sort of way.

"Sora'd come with, 'course. You wouldn't ever leave him behind, right?"

"Fuck no," Roxas responded, breaking into a grin. "When's the next train to New York?"

"Whenever you wanna up and leave, baby."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Sora piped up from the other side of the room, though he didn't sound like he was protesting just too hard.

"Nope," Axel and Roxas both responded at once.

"You'd better be glad I'm ok with it then, 'cause it'd be kidnapping if I wasn't and then you'd _really_ have something to worry about."

The blonde began to laugh then, and the former assassin joined in - enjoying, for once, the unfamiliar sensation.

XXX

On the third day after the battle, Cloud awoke. Sephiroth might have admitted to feeling a tendril of relief as he watched the blue eyes flutter open, had anyone asked: he hadn't left the blonde's side for the entire duration of the man's hospital stay. The former General would welcome the absence of the nagging worry that had plagued him.

"You're awake," he murmured, careful to keep his voice low in respect for the other's invalid condition.

"…General Sephiroth?" the blonde asked, confusion evident in his manner. "…What are you doing?"

"You're in the hospital," Sephiroth responded, not comfortable enough to volunteer an answer to the question that the blonde had actually asked. "You shouldn't move yet, until a doctor has said you may." He paused. "Zack asked me to apologize for him if you woke up while he was gone. He's gone for a physical examination."

"So he's alright then," the blonde breathed. "But… why are you here?"

"I brought you here, I don't know if you recall."

"Oh." A beat. "But… sir, what are you doing here now?"

So it finally came down to this.

"It is my responsibility to ensure your safety, since it was my fault that you were hurt at all," Sephiroth responded, voice impassive, too uncomfortable to ask the other to dispense with the formalities.

Cloud blinked at that, apparently still too confused to comprehend.

"_Your_ fault? I don't remember that. I…" He took a breath, and a look of realization grew on his face. "I remember you _saving_ me."

"If I had been there earlier -"

"No. It wasn't your fault - you were just doing what you thought was the right thing. And you helped in the end." Silence. "Everyone else is alright, then?"

Sephiroth nodded, watching the other man for any change in expression.

"So far as I know, yes."

"Good. And that… Thank you for that. You saved them, too." For a long moment, they watched each other - and it was like Sephiroth was seeing Cloud again, for the first time.

"But I want to know - why did you come back?" he asked slowly.

"I could let neither you nor Zack die while I could prevent it."

Another silence, as long and awkward as the last.

"I see. Then… why did you save them first? When you came in the door, my opponent was closer than theirs - and still you saved them," he murmured - and though his eyes were clouded by pain and the medicine in his body, still his gaze was intense.

"I -" His words broke off then, as he realized that he hadn't really thought about it until then. He had no investment in the lives of the children or the Rogue, so why had he done as he did?

"I thought that it was what you would have wanted me to do," he explained before the thought had even crossed his mind. Once he had time to process the words, he recognized its truth - Cloud had forgiven him once for the death of someone important to him, and even that man was not merciful enough to pardon the same offense twice.

"Oh."

Somehow, Sephiroth had expected more of a response than that - but perhaps even other men were not always sure of what to say in an uncomfortable situation.

"Can you forgive me for my indecision?" the former general asked haltingly, swallowing his pride for a moment.

"There's nothing to forgive," Cloud responded, watching the floor. "Nothing to forgive," he repeated, eyes sliding up to meet Sephiroth's own.

"There is."

"You didn't do anything wrong," the blonde countered, sitting up a bit in his bed - possibly more than was good for him, but Sephiroth didn't move to stop him.

"…You don't blame me for any of the many things I have done," Sephiroth responded, voice sober. "What, then, might I have to do for you to hold me at fault?"

The captain shrugged, gaze never faltering.

"I guess I don't know, exactly - except that you haven't done it yet."

The air between them became charged with something that Sephiroth could not understand, much less describe - and it took longer than perhaps he would have chosen to force out his next words.

"I don't know what you think I am, Cloud Strife," he began, expression focused with the effort of his words, "but I am not a god. I… I have my faults, like any other man - and I make mistakes, as any other man would."

"I know," the blonde breathed, and for a heartbeat Sephiroth saw a flicker of the man that Cloud had been once, before deaths and tragedies had taken their toll. "I know - but you're here now, aren't you?"

Something changed between them then, and Sephiroth knew he would only ruin it with his clumsy attempts at words. So, he didn't say a thing - but that was alright, because he knew that, somehow, Cloud understood that. Their comfortable silence was more telling than any words could have been.

XXX

Within a day - as soon as they received news that everyone who had fought with them was alive and recovering - Axel and Roxas picked up everything they would need and left, dragging Sora along behind them happily. The trip to the New York harbor took a few days by train, and the blurred repetition of the scenery around them gave them time to think. Perhaps it was too much time - the silences were awkward as often as they were comfortable, and Sora was the only one who seemed completely immune to the quiet, sad spells that would overtake the other members of their party.

The last night of their train trip, Axel noticed a small noise from the end of his bed, and it didn't take much thought to guess Roxas as the source. It was long after they both should have been asleep - he wasn't sure if the other was looking for comfort or just contact; but either way, the redhead was more than happy to provide.

"Hey, Axel? You awake?" the blonde probed, speaking carefully - presumably to ensure that he wouldn't disturb his brother, who was happily dreaming on the other side of their private sleeper car.

"Mm?" came the redhead's sleepy reply. " 'm always awake if you're gettin' in bed with me, Roxy." He turned over onto his back and opened one eye, a small smirk on his face. "So… are we gonna get straight to the fucking or d'you want dinner first?"

Roxas gave his lover a scowl in return and a light smack, but lay down next to him nonetheless - and that probably meant he hadn't actually been any kind of offended. That was good to know.

"I dunno why I'm here," the blonde murmured after a moment, not moving to touch his lover but not complaining when the redhead put a lanky arm around him. "I just… I dunno. It's been… kind of quiet, these last couple of days."

Axel couldn't stop himself from stiffening a bit - he had known that they would have to talk about this eventually, but he hadn't really wanted to. Ignoring it all was much more his style.

"Well… There's been a lot to think about."

That was one way to put it, at least. A lot had happened, both with regards to them and with regards to others. They both were going to have a lot of guilt to work through.

"You're not - reconsidering, are you?" Roxas asked, and the redhead could feel his lover's heart begin to hammer against his ribs. "Are you going to leave?"

That was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever heard come out of the blonde's mouth - usually he was smarter than this. He ought to have known that there was no way in hell something like that could happen - but he wasn't about to break the moment by saying it in those words.

"Nah, not leaving," Axel responded instead, turning his head so that his face was buried in the blonde's hair. "Not gonna leave 'till ya want me to. I'd… I couldn't do it, Rox. Couldn't ever do that to myself."

He laughed a little bit, quietly - at how far he'd fallen and how little that bothered him. He was officially one of those romantic dumbasses now, and even though it still kind of pissed him off, he would never have it any other way. Never again.

"I'm way too damn selfish to ever do that to myself. So, just for the record, if you're thinking of leaving for my good or something - don't be an idiot," the redhead said, grinning.

"Never thought of that once," the blonde replied, and the lie was obvious. "But…" he continued, blue eyes fixed on the bunk above them, "are you really going to give up your job for me? Give up everything you made for yourself over here, in Chicago?"

"Well, not just for you. If I stayed over here, eventually somebody or another would do me in, and I'm not ready to die yet." This was mostly true, at least. "But, uh, yeah. Basically," Axel agreed with a shrug, like it was no big deal. It wasn't, though, in comparison.

"…Is that what's been bothering you? Or…"

"Nah, haven't lost a bit of sleep over that. But…" The redhead paused then, and wrapped both of his arms around his lover. "Sometimes a guy just thinks too much, you know?"

That had not usually been one of his faults - he'd never been one for brooding or moaning about the fate life had dealt him. But it only made sense that things would change, eventually.

"…God, I'm sorry," Roxas whispered, still not looking at his lover. "You know I didn't, I never -"

"I know." Axel cut him off, holding the blonde even tighter, feeling the boy's breath on his chest. "I know. Nobody should ever have to choose."

That choice was the worst punishment anyone could have doled out - to try and break something this good, to leave them with doubt and guilt enough to feed a nation. But they hadn't broken yet - they had survived together, the two of them and the third that Roxas loved like life itself. Leaving now, and letting the blonde's guilt fester until it scarred, would haunt Axel forever. It would ruin both of them.

He couldn't ever do that to Roxas. He couldn't ever do that to himself.

The two lovers lay together, entwined, for minutes, more - until the redhead finally broke the silence again.

"Not gonna lie and say that it hasn't been bothering me - I'd have to be one crazy bastard if it didn't. But - that's not all. Don't take all the credit."

Axel realized as those words left his mouth that he never should have said a word - the other thoughts that had plagued him were not ones he was ready to discuss with his young lover yet, if ever.

He had visited Demyx before they left, to say goodbye, one last time. The boy had been practically immobile, tearstained and broken - hands shivering as he sat, alone, in in a patch of daylight on his floor. No one else came to hug him, or to cry with him - the life of an assassin's lover was a solitary one; and now, he was left with nothing.

Axel had never experienced guilt so strong, and it was not easily brushed away, nor was it easily spoken of. And yet, he was still selfish enough that he would never admit to what he had done. He would not risk losing everything for that one moment of honesty.

It wasn't fair, maybe, or right. But life fucked with you in the worst ways - and at least he was still alive. Axel was going to take advantage of that for as long as it lasted.

So, he left about thirty thousand dollars in Demyx's bank account and gave him the telephone number of a guy who'd put him up in a nice room for as long as he needed one. Then, the former assassin had breathed the dust from the piano one last time, and left.

That wasn't something Roxas needed to hear about. It wasn't something that ever needed to be spoken, to anyone, in any time or place.

So before the blonde could say anything in return, Axel cleared his throat and spoke.

"But that's not important." A pause - Roxas clearly didn't believe him. "By that, of course, I mean that it is, and you shouldn't ask. Trust me when I say that some things are secret for a reason."

"Yeah." Another silence. "I'm still sorry, you know," the blonde murmured, finally meeting Axel's eyes - he was apparently determined to keep saying that until something shut him up. So, the redhead took the liberty of closing the distance between them, kissing the other's lips like it was the first time - gently, their meeting chaste and unimpeded.

"Yeah, I know," Axel said as they pulled apart, breaths lingering hesitantly, temptingly - and the words he didn't say were still there, between them.

He didn't say them because they were uncomfortable and unnecessary and probably rushed, because he didn't want to break this moment, and because he was still too selfish and too wary to lay himself bare in the way that those words would. They were words for later, that would be said in another time and another place - words meant to be shared rather than forgotten.

Their second kiss was as natural as falling and as dizzying, the fire of it pushing all other thoughts to the wayside - and there was only a split second of consideration before Roxas had rolled on top of him, hands brushing and moving tentatively against Axel's too-warm skin. He couldn't help the shiver, or the way his hands moved to do the same - he skillfully slid his hands under the shirt that was obstructing his access to his lover's body. Then, Roxas's mouth found _that_ spot on his neck, and he stopped all movement but breathing to concentrate on that sensation.

Once the redhead's coherency returned to him, he suddenly remembered - or realized - where they were, and with whom; and that was in a sleeper car on a train bound for New York, with Sora asleep on the bed across the room.

"Roxas," he began, trying as best as he could to keep his thoughts straight as the blonde's mouth moved lower, "We can't do this."

"What, getting shy now?" Roxas retorted, breath hot on his lover's chest, and Axel couldn't help but grin.

"Nah. But - y'gotta remember, your younger brother is about five feet away from us right now."

The blonde stilled then, as the thought finally hit him, and Axel pulled him down for another kiss.

"It's not that I don't want you," he laughed quietly, " 'cause believe me, I do - I want you so damn bad. Just… not like this."

A thought struck him then, and took hold of him as it sunk in - tendrils creeping to every part of him, and he began to smile like there was nothing that could stop him.

"You know, we have a while. Fuck, we have as long as you want, Roxas. I'm not goin' away anytime soon."

_Yeah, we have a while_, he thought with an astonished, disbelieving laugh. _We have the rest of our lives_.

_XXX_

Climbing out of a hospital window with three-day-old injuries was even harder than it sounded - and Yuffie only barely managed it without re-opening her stitched-shut wounds. But thankfully, she'd picked up a few more tricks from her years on the streets than just how to jump off of things and look cool - and one of those things was to climb down walls with at least a small expectation of safety.

She would have stayed to drop in on Cloud, who, according to the doctors, was being held to his bed with everything short of manacles - but she knew that if she did that, somebody would catch her and she didn't want to spend another day in that place if she could help it at all. So, figuring that she'd just be there when her friend finally got out, she tossed her wooden crutch out the window and proceeded to slide down a drainpipe. At least one arm and leg were strong enough to support her - and that was good, else she might have had to do something stupid like use the stairs.

It was quite frankly astonishing that each of their company had fared as well as they had - Yuffie would have a new scar that ran the length of her back and neck until it crossed into her scalp, and others in her legs and arms. Frankly, though, they made her look like a badass. People might think twice about messing with her now.

Upon reaching the ground floor - she'd only been on the second, thank god - she picked up the crutch that she was still pissed off that she needed, and began to make her way to Cloud's apartment. She'd wait there - probably with Zack - until they took the handcuffs off of the poor guy and let him go.

She just hoped she managed to catch up with Vincent before he left to mope or brood or whatever it was he wanted to call it to make him feel better about it. He'd been hard enough to keep in place before making enemies of the whole city, and now he was even less likely to stick around.

But she was gonna be _pissed_ if he left without saying goodbye. Sure, they hadn't known each other for long - but he struck her as the sort of guy who needed looking after, at least on the emotional side of things. This, Yuffie was more than willing to provide - 'cause otherwise, he'd sit and think in some cave somewhere until he put down roots or starved to death.

Much to her surprise, upon picking Cloud's lock, she found a characteristic red coat draped over the back of Cloud's only chair, and the man it belonged to lying on the bed.

"Oh, good," she said loudly, grinning as she watched his eyes fly open. "I was hoping to catch you before you ran off. How're you doing?"

He sat up slowly, giving an unreadable look to her crutch, and then back at her again.

"…They let you out so quickly?" he asked, deep voice unmoving.

"Ah, not exactly. But a gutter rat is nothing if not resourceful, right?"

Vincent raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.

"…You escaped. Tell me you didn't climb out, with those injuries," he intoned, finally standing up - partially to put his cloak back on, and partially to use his superior height to his advantage.

"If it makes you feel better, _daddy_," she laughed, watching his expression flicker to one of distaste for just a moment. "I'll just add that to the list of things I'm not supposed to be doing, then - climbing out windows, wearing pants, spending time un-chaperoned with _men_. Mother must be turning in her grave."

"I never said -"

"I know, I know," she cut him off, smiling. "It was a joke. Please tell me you can take a joke - no, wait, of course you can't. You're a tightass, through and through."

She moved to sit down on the recently vacated bed, crutch thumping across the wooden floor irritatingly before being dropped unceremoniously to fall wherever it would.

"You're a tightass who's sticking around, though, right? I mean, it'd be kinda dumb to go off by yourself or something once you have people who'd like to see you every so often," she mentioned with a forced levity - she wasn't ever one to act serious, even when she kind of wanted to.

"Yuffie," he began, crimson gaze focused, and she knew what he was about to say even before he said it. "If I stayed, I would be a danger to you and everyone else."

"Bullcrap," she responded cheerfully. "We're all a danger to each other. We're _all_ in deep shit if ShinRa decides to go out for revenge - but that Sephiroth can keep them in line, apparently. I wouldn't be too worried about that," she told him, laying down on the bed herself - she was more exhausted than she cared to admit. She couldn't really afford to spend too many days away from her job.

"It is different for me," he murmured, still unflinching. "I was asked by the Turks to assassinate the President ShinRa in return for their absence from the battle, and I complied."

"Oh." She shifted on her bed, trying to find a position that didn't hurt her side or back. "Well… wasn't that sort of what you were going for all along?"

He shook his head, dark hair shining in the half-light.

"I am… unsure, myself, of what I had intended," Vincent responded, quietly. "And less certain, now, that the path I chose was the correct one."

"What would make you say that?"

"Vengeance rarely cures more ills than it creates," he noted, turning to face the window, leaving Yuffie wondering just why everybody was so damn cryptic. A straight answer or two every so often would be nice. He was worse than Cloud, even - at least he didn't go around _trying_ to confuse the hell out of people.

"Probably not," she agreed lightly, determined to combat the dark-haired man's morose attitude. "But you did a bunch of good at the same time - he needed to die."

"I wonder," Vincent returned, quiet and thoughtful as always.

"What, whether he needed to die or not?" Well, that was pretty stupid - Yuffie had seen enough people get messed up by the ShinRa corporation that any blow against them was a victory in her book. "I'm pretty sure he did."

"It is not my place to give life or death, deserved or not," he observed, face sober, as he turned to face the girl again. "And perhaps a worse evil has been given power in his place."

"Hey, it's not your place to figure that out, either. You do what you gotta do, and the rest of the world either deals or it doesn't." They watched each other for a moment. "So, that mean you're gonna stick around or not?"

"…I have much to think on," he responded, taking a restless step forward. "Wandering may clear my thoughts."

Yuffie let out a breath - she had known that this was the way it was going to turn out, but that didn't mean she was any less disappointed. Despite her nature, her friends were few and far between - a girl dressing as a boy couldn't afford those casual friendships. She had hoped that Vincent might become one of those few.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because he tuned towards her and spoke.

"But… I might return, from time to time, if you don't mind," he murmured, gaze shifting like he wasn't really sure why he was saying it.

Well, at least he wasn't a total idiot.

"Really?" she asked, brightening. "I'd like that. 'Cause, you know, thinking too much is bad for a guy. Turns you old real quick - and we couldn't have that, now could we?" She paused, giving him a bright, impish smile. "Now, I want a promise on that."

"You have my word," he responded - and maybe, just maybe, he smiled a little too. Probably not, though, because that would have meant the world was ending - and there was still way too much fun to be had for the apocalypse to come just yet. Besides, Yuffie had herself a man to catch - and no four horsemen or flaming swords were gonna stop her until she did.

XXX

"Hey, Spike," Zack called, practically breaking the hospital room's door down with his enthusiasm. "They're letting you out today!"

It had certainly been long enough since he'd been admitted - closer to a week than anything - and though Cloud had been awake for a couple of days, he hadn't been allowed to move. Zack and Sephiroth had both seen to that - and the former general hadn't left the blonde's side in days, interestingly enough. The first question that raised was how he managed to survive that long with apparently no food - the second was what, exactly, had happened between them that made the silence so comfortable.

Of course, the former captain could get straight answers out of neither of them. Typical.

But they both looked comfortable enough as they sat there, Cloud on the edge of his hospital bed, and Sephiroth looking over the edge of some book or another.

"I'm so glad you're ok, kiddo," Zack informed the younger, moving forward to ruffle the blonde's spiky hair. "You had me worried for a bit there."

"I'm fine, Zack," Cloud returned, pretending not to be indignant as he pushed his friend off of him. "And will you stop it with the hair? You're just going to injure me again."

"Nah, you're tougher than that," the dark-haired man responded. "Anyway, c'mon. Let's get you out of this place," he continued with a gesture towards the open door. Never seeing the inside of another hospital again would still be far too soon.

"With pleasure," Sephiroth agreed, standing gracefully from his seat and closing the book. "Cloud, do you think you can walk without assistance?"

"If Zack can, so can I," the blonde declared as he slid off the bed carefully. "I still don't understand why you got out so much earlier than I did. From what I heard, you weren't in great shape either."

"Well, I walked out of that place," Zack pointed out, extending a hand to help the kid get his balance, "and you got carried. That didn't help your case much, kiddo. That and you were probably just too cute to let go," he continued happily.

"Zack," Sephiroth intoned, looking very much put-upon, "You should probably wait until he's healed to begin making a nuisance of yourself."

"Hey, I'm injured too!" the former captain returned indignantly. "Doesn't that give me special privileges too?" he asked, trying to sling an arm around the taller man - an attempt which was unfortunately fended off.

"I think I liked him better unconscious," Sephiroth noted, sharing a half-smirk with Cloud.

"Sometimes I think I agree with you," the blonde responded, teasing, and Zack's wounded look was ruined by the grin that just refused to go away. Maybe his work here wasn't done, but it was moving cheerfully along.

"So anyway," the dark-haired man continued, throwing the arm meant for Sephiroth over Cloud's shoulders, "I have a grand plan for us, you'n me. D'you wanna hear my plan?"

"Not for General Sephiroth too?" the blonde asked, half-playing.

"He's not a general anymore, so you can drop the title. And Seph's welcome to join if he wants - but I somehow can't see him being a delivery boy. Seph?" Zack asked, looking over to his friend for confirmation.

"…I think that, for once, you are actually correct," Sephiroth returned, eyebrow raised. "And you, one of the most accomplished fighters in the country, would lower yourself to being a 'delivery boy?'"

"It's better than going back to the ShinRa with my tail between my legs, like I'm repenting or something. What do ya say, Cloud? It wouldn't just be delivery," he explained, never letting his expression fall, "it'd be other stuff, too. We'd do odd jobs for whoever wanted 'em, and guard trains or something. We'll live together over our shop, and Seph can drop by whenever he wants, too. It'll be great."

There was only a brief pause before Cloud responded.

"Sure," he agreed, walking forward gingerly even as he gave Zack a smile. "It's not like I have anything else to do, right?"

"Not in particular," Zack agreed, turning his glance to Sephiroth. "C'mon, princess. We're going shop-hunting."

Sephiroth raised a delicate eyebrow at that.

"With what funds? If I recall, you lost a good deal of it at the races a few weeks ago," he noted, but nevertheless followed the others out of the room.

"With your money, of course, my friend. We'll pay you back with our undying love," the former captain declared with an enthusiasm that almost made his wounds start aching again.

"Remind me again of the exchange rate in actual currency for 'undying love.'"

"Whoa, Seph," Zack retorted as they headed down the hallway, ignoring the astonished and vaguely scandalized looks of the hospital staff, "I think you might have just made another joke. That's two in the past five minutes - going so fast, you're gonna hurt yourself. You have to take it slow for these things."

"Duly noted," Sephiroth responded, and Cloud gave a little chuckle - it was strange to hear, after so long; but good. Really good. Actually it was pretty much a miracle - it wasn't too long ago when the smaller blonde couldn't be convinced to say anything at all in Sephiroth's presence, much less laugh.

Maybe it would take a little while, but they'd make it. One day they might even figure out that hugs didn't transmit deadly diseases - though that was probably a little much to hope for at this point. But, perfect or not, Zack couldn't help the feeling - coursing through his body like adrenaline - that this was the way it was meant to be. That everything they had been through was so they could make it to this point, together.

Those years of hurt weren't going to just disappear, but that was ok. He wouldn't change a thing, not for the world.

XXX

The marketplace on Cyprus had always been pretty interesting - colorful, in the way that places which bustled with people tended to be - but it hadn't ever been really out of the ordinary. Normally, it was just a welcome break from the carefully tended monotony of Riku's life - but he later stated with confidence that there was the hand of fate somewhere in that day's disturbance.

"I told you, um - _lefta, ochi pia,_" a brunette boy - clearly a foreigner - explained in _very_ broken Greek as an overly large and frighteningly muscular fishwife bore down on him menacingly. The boy was covered in guts and standing uncomfortably in the midst of what looked like it might have been a tornado of fish, and the pitiful remains of a broken stall.

"_Lefta,_" he repeated himself, completely unaware that the woman he was dealing with probably spoke Turkish. "I'm sorry, really, I didn't mean to break it, I was just - I don't have any more money to pay you back with, if you let me go get some I could, though. I'm really sorry, I am."

The sight was so absurd, so comical, that Riku couldn't help but laugh - the poor guy probably hadn't been on Cyprus for more than a day, and already he'd managed to break a whole market stall, landing himself in trouble with the locals. And all this while covered in fish guts.

He'd never done anything quite like this before, but this kid needed some saving.

"Hey," he began as he walked over to the destruction, intending to grab the guy's attention. "Your Greek sucks pretty bad," he informed the brunette, laughing as the boy's eyes went wide with indignation. "Let me handle this."

"You know, if you weren't being such a jerk I'd say thank you," the foreigner muttered, nevertheless taking a step to the side so that Riku was in front of the angry fishwife instead.

"Well, I _am_ saving your ass, so a little bit of thanks might be in order," he responded easily. "And you reek. You're welcome to a bath at my place when you're done being indignant."

"You sure know how to make a guy feel good," the boy responded, and Riku was pretty sure he'd never seen anything as cute as the blush that spread across the other's face at that moment.

He did his best to ignore that for the time being, as he began to explain the situation to the woman in fluent Turkish. That didn't help much, at least until he promised compensation from the Greek royal family - and though the Turks on Cyprus weren't overly fond of the Greeks, they were fond of Greek money.

Riku finally turned away from the woman and back to the brunette, grinning at the look of astonishment on the other's face.

"So, you gonna take me up on the bath or are you going to run around with fish guts in your hair for the rest of the day?" he questioned casually, still smirking. "And I kind of want to know just how you managed to break that stall. What's your name, stranger?"

He began to walk away then, and the boy followed at a light trot.

"Uh," the boy responded intelligently, clearly not very quick on his feet, "I'm Sora. Why do you speak English so well?"

"International schooling will do that to a guy. I'm fluent in French, English, Greek, Latin, and Turkish - and I've got enough Chinese and German to get along." Modesty had never been one of Riku's virtues. "But how did you manage to break the whole damn stall?" They got quite a few strange looks as they walked by various shops, but he was pretty used to those by now.

The boy - Sora - blushed a little, and was looking increasingly flustered with every passing second.

"There was this kid, and he was trying to pickpocket me - usually I'd let him take it, but Roxas said he was gonna get mad at me if I came back without dinner one more time. So I'm chasing this kid, trying to get my money back, and all of a sudden this fish stall jumps in my way," he moaned, putting his hands in his pockets like he expected to find his missing money pouch there.

Riku laughed - and the other pouted a little bit, even though he looked like he was trying his best not to. The kid was probably just as oblivious to how adorable he looked as he was to everything else.

"So you're left without your money, without dinner, and with an angry fishwife in your face," Riku summarized, amused. "Do I get a thank-you?"

"Yeah." A pause. "I mean, thanks a million. You saved me from a terrible fate," the boy said, finally smiling a little bit. "Anyway, what's your name?"

He turned to properly face Sora then, smirking like a cat at a fishbowl, before sweeping him a long and over exaggerated bow.

"I'm Riku, illegitimate son of a prince of Greece, grandson to our _revered_ King George I. I was dropped onto Cyprus when I was a baby, and I'll be left here until the public forgets what a scandal I am," he informed the other, the sarcasm laid on thick.

Sora took a moment or two to comprehend, blinking wordlessly.

"What, really?" he asked, still unable to get that look of surprise off his face.

"Yes, really. Don't be an idiot," Riku retorted, walking past the buildings until he reached the road that would lead to his family's summer home. Sora really was impossibly cute - and the fact that the thought persisted was pretty telling.

For the first time in a long time, and quite unexpectedly, Riku found himself actually enjoying their conversation - in the circles he usually moved in, smiles were always fake, and generally covered some kind of ulterior motive. But here, with this boy that he'd barely known for five minutes, he felt like he only had to smile when he wanted to. Like he didn't have to keep a lie on his face. Better yet, he knew somehow that Sora's every expression, his every word, were completely and happily honest.

"Uh… I'm not," Sora responded, breaking Riku's train of thought, "It's just - I'm ninety-nine percent certain that my brother's been stealing your identity ever since we got to Greece," Sora admitted, face turning even redder. "Uh, sorry 'bout that."

The elder let out a peal of laughter, and then - because he'd never been denied anything he wanted, because no-one had ever fought him on anything, and because it never even occurred to him to do anything differently - he turned and kissed the other boy, fish smell or no.

Sora pulled away within seconds, beet-red and fumbling, but that wasn't completely unexpected.

"You jerk," the brunette said, looking more surprised and embarrassed than actually offended, "you know, it's common courtesy to _ask_ before you kiss someone! Especially a _guy_," he emphasized, blue eyes bright.

"Yeah, well - neither you nor I are exactly ordinary, are we?" Riku returned, smirking roguishly, as their feet crunched on the gravel driveway.

"…I think I'm going to go take you up on that bath now," Sora fairly squeaked, bursting into a trot across the lawn.

_Well, this is going to be a whole _hell_ of a lot of fun_.

_XXX_

One Saturday night, Cloud and Yuffie met up in the Seventh Heaven like they had done years ago, when Cloud had been in the army and Yuffie just a punk kid. It was surprisingly comfortable, actually - even the former soldier noticed that he was feeling less reticent than usual, like some weight had been taken from him.

"Looking good, Cloud," Yuffie noted with a grin as she dropped down into the chair opposite him, motioning to the waiter that he should bring her a drink. "I'd never believe that you only got out of the hospital a week or two ago if I hadn't been there myself."

"Same goes for you," the blonde responded, taking a sip of his drink. "I see you're not using your crutch anymore." Actually, she was moving around extremely well - maybe there wouldn't be any permanent damage.

"Yep," she agreed cheerily, "Totally off. Still not back up to speed, but that'll come eventually. So I'm not too bad, all things told - even if I can't quite get back to business yet. Speaking of businesses," she continued, crossing her arms on the table, "how's yours going? You're starting up one with Zack, right?"

"Yeah," he responded, looking around the room for a moment - his awkwardness wasn't completely cured yet, after all. "We haven't really started yet. Buying automobiles and weaponry takes time."

"And money," Yuffie interjected, one eyebrow raised. "So how do you afford splurging on a place like this?"

Cloud cleared his throat a bit - there were several answers to this question, none of which he was particularly intent on sharing.

"Well - Sephiroth went back to ShinRa, first of all -"

"- that son of a -"

"It's not what you think," the blonde cut her off with a small smile. "They came begging for his help - apparently the President finally realized that his army was nothing without its General. His pay raise was significant."

It was better to have an eye on your enemy than leave them alone, after all - and in any case, much of what ShinRa did was good. None of them would have joined in the first place if it was all evil - the city's real police force was corrupt and untrustworthy, completely unwilling to spend the time or manpower it took to control crime in the streets. ShinRa's army deterred and punished wrongdoing when the city itself was unwilling.

"So that's how you've got money to spare," she said, impressed, as the waiter set her drink on the table. She grabbed it and downed every last drop before there had even been time for a ring of condensation to form.

The answer to that was both yes and no - though Sephiroth's pay raise certainly contributed to his and Zack's financial wellbeing, there had been other factors. Part of Zack's brilliant idea had involved going to marksmanship competitions under fake names and taking, of course, the top prize - the money prize - without anyone really realizing who they were.

Maybe it was a little bit unfair - but as Zack said, it was really just taking advantage of the skills they already had, like any good businessman would do.

"Yeah," Cloud agreed, not really wanting to make the other methods the topic of conversation. "How's Vincent doing?" he asked, transparently attempting to change the subject. "Has he left yet?"

"Oh _hell_ no," Yuffie responded, and the blonde wasn't entirely sure that he was comfortable with the intensity of her grin. "I'm not letting him go just yet."

"…Didn't you promise to let him leave?"

"Sorta," she replied, tapping her mug on the table until the condensation slid down and stained the wood. "But I'm not gonna let him go until I'm sure he'll come back."

He refrained from asking just when that might be.

"Fair enough," Cloud responded with a quiet laugh, taking another drink. "But, while you're here, I thought I'd pass this on - Tifa's offered to give you a job at the bar if you ever want one. If you ever decide that you can't go on being a pickpocket forever."

The look Yuffie shot him then was purely incredulous, and the blonde was almost sorry he'd said anything.

"Oh, _hell_ no. I'm not an old codger yet, and _nobody's_ gonna make me wear one of those walking wedding cakes women call dresses -"

"Tifa doesn't," Cloud pointed out, and was summarily ignored.

"- and nobody's gonna tell me where I can go or what I can do or who I can spend time alone with. I'm perfectly fine being a man for now, thanks all the same."

"It's a standing offer anyway," the former soldier responded, mildly amused, as he finally finished his drink and stood. "But, I have some things that need doing. Say hello to Vincent for me."

"I will," she chirruped, "and you'll pay for my tab, won't you?"

"I think you've trained me to expect that by now," he observed, handing her a bill as she called for the waiter to bring her another.

It really was good to know that some things would never change, no matter what happened or what else might be different. Some things didn't need to change.

XXX

A half hour later, after the most beautiful bath he could ever remember taking, Sora finally came back downstairs to thank his host. Despite the whole kissing thing, the other boy had really been very kind and generous - and Sora was hardly one to be ungrateful.

With the help of one of many servants who wandered the hallways in apparent boredom, the brunette found Riku on the back porch, where he was watching the ocean swell gently up over a pristinely manicured white-sand beach.

The whole place was so unlike the brunette's own home that it was almost astonishing - the doors and walls were all laced with so many windows that it was hard to believe that the building didn't collapse under its own weight, and the shell-white vaulted ceilings were more inviting than imposing. The doors leading out onto the oceanfront balcony were all open, letting in the ocean breeze, and the white curtains fluttered against the gathering clouds on the horizon

"Hey, Riku?" Sora ventured from the doorway, taking a step outside and finding himself grateful that the weather in the rest of the world wasn't as terrible as the weather in Chicago. Then again, he'd place a bet that there wasn't weather _anywhere_ that was worse than Chicago's.

"Oh, hey," came Riku's response, and he flashed the brunette a grin as he stood up. "Enjoy your bath, did you? I was beginning to wonder if you'd drowned."

"Nope, I managed just fine," Sora laughed, plopping down ungracefully into a wooden chair.

"Shame. If you'd been drowning, I could have come to rescue you," Riku replied, grinning like the devil - and worse, Sora wasn't entirely sure whether the other boy was joking or not.

"I'm pretty sure I don't need any rescuing."

"Like I said, it's a shame." His grin stayed there for a moment, but then turned apologetic - he shifted his weight awkwardly before sitting down again. "But listen, uh - sorry about freaking you out earlier. Wasn't my intent."

Sora raised an eyebrow.

"You're sorry for freaking me out, not sorry for kissing me without permission?" the brunette asked, good mood still wafting though him.

The smirk Riku flashed him then had probably made more than one girl pass out on the spot, and the guy knew it, too.

"Not in the least," he responded, and Sora couldn't help but laugh.

"So…" the elder continued, propping his head up with his arm in a way that made his silver hair fall over his face, "What brings you to Cyprus? You're from America, that much I can tell from the accent, and we don't tend to get too many travelers from your side of the Atlantic."

"Oh. Uh…" The question caught him a little bit off-guard; Axel had given them a cover-story plus fake papers at every country they'd visited, and this one was no different. The usually picked some lesser-known member of the nobility to impersonate - apparently Axel couldn't get over his love of lying, no matter what other habits he'd kicked - and used their fake status to get themselves into the most exclusive hotels or restaurants.

According to Axel, Sora's answer to enquiries of that sort was supposed to be "I'm the personal servant of Riku, grandson to the king."

The issues with this were quite clear.

"Um… Well. I'm… on vacation?" the brunette said with little hope that he was going to be believed.

"H-uh. So boys on vacation regularly wander around marketplaces by themselves, do they? And have brothers who impersonate royalty?" he asked, looking disbelieving and mildly amused. "Funny. I wasn't aware."

"Yeah, well…" A sight on Sora's left distracted him for a moment. A beautiful fencing foil leaned up against the whitewashed wall, next to a mask of equal quality.

"Wait, you fence?" he asked, perking up a bit.

"Yeah. Why?" Riku questioned, apparently distracted enough by the query to drop his earlier train of thought.

"Let's have a go, then, if you've got another set," Sora responded brightly - it had been way too long since he'd gotten to practice. He'd been pretty good, too, once upon a time.

"Sorry, we haven't got any in children's sizes," the other drawled, smirking - but this time the expression was entirely different. The brunette play-scowled - this was all part of the fun.

"Let's see you keep that attitude when I make you eat dirt."

Riku laughed.

"Well, we'll see, won't we?" He paused then, and his arrogant expression melted away as quickly as it had come. "Um, Sora - do you think you might, you know, stay on Cyprus for a little bit?" he asked awkwardly.

Seeing that awkward, scowling look on the other's face, Sora couldn't help but feel sorry for him - as nobility, he probably hadn't had many chances to make friends. His house was huge, sure, but it was also empty - and that was a sorry state to be in.

"Sure," Sora replied, smiling. "I don't see why not."

XXX

On the list of wonderful ways to wake up, being pulled out of a dream by your lover's mouth on your lips and his hand on your crotch ranked _way_ the fuck up there. For Axel anyway - though anybody that didn't hold true for was one _crazy_ son of a bitch.

"Well," the redhead murmured, shifting his position for better access even as he opened one eye, "Good morning to you too, Roxy."

"Sora's been gone for _hours_," Roxas responded as best he could between kisses, "and you weren't waking up. So I figured it was my _duty_ to do that for you."

"Good call," Axel responded, putting both his hands on the blonde's ass where they belonged. "Awfully frisky today, aren't we?"

"Shut up - there are things you could be doing with your mouth that involve less talking," the younger growled, and the redhead took the moment of distraction as an opportunity to flip them around. With Roxas on the bottom, Axel found it easier to put his thigh between his lover's legs and elicit those long, beautiful noises the blonde was so damn good at.

"Aww, love you too, baby," the redhead laughed, and brought their lips together again.

XXX

Slowly but certainly, Sephiroth had begun to realize that he spent more time at Zack and Cloud's shared living quarters than he did at his own. Zack had teased him about it more than once, but he'd stopped once he realized that the General wasn't denying it.

He had never decided what, precisely, to do about the situation with Cloud - his limited knowledge of interpersonal affairs did not extend into such a realm - but their condition had been changing, somehow, with no easily discernable end in sight.

He would never admit it aloud, but he had taken to watching the blonde - hoping, he supposed, to discover something about the younger that would explain his undying infatuation. Very little had come to light that would explain such a bout of insanity from a normally stable man.

Chiefly, he had noticed that Cloud, much like himself, had quite a bit of trouble with people - he never seemed quite comfortable in their presence, and never sought them out if it could be helped.

That answered at least one question that had been bothering Sephiroth since Zack's explanation - as to why the younger Captain had never brought it up himself, or even initiated a conversation with the General of his own free will.

But, despite the time he spent searching for answers, Sephiroth still found himself uncomfortably unenlightened.

His decision to ask Cloud himself was not planned, but rather the result of an impulse - the more time he spent with Zack, the more compelled he felt to act on these whims. He'd seen the blonde enter his room of the small living complex, and had followed without thinking; and now, he found himself standing outside of the door with his hand raised mid-motion.

After a moment, he brought himself to knock.

"Cloud?" he began, still getting used to the taste of the man's first name. "May I come in?"

"Door's open," the former captain responded, and Sephiroth took that as an invitation to enter.

The room was predictably sparse, with only a bed and a bedside table to fill the space. Cloud himself sat cross-legged in the middle of the comforter, lap full with a full array of various bandages as he attempted to wrap one around his right arm - and given that he only had his left to work with, this wasn't going particularly well.

The blonde looked up for an instant and then down again, holding one end of the bandage with his teeth as he pulled it tight across his arm.

"Sephiroth. Can I help you with something?" he asked quietly once he was done, looking up through his unruly bangs at his visitor.

"I was about to ask the same question," Sephiroth rumbled in return, giving a nod to the pile of bandages. "It seems you might be more successful with assistance," he noted, taking a few steps forward, uninvited, to sit on the edge of the bed himself.

"…You sure you don't mind?" Cloud questioned, watching the general intently. "I mean, I could call in Zack if -"

"No need." Sephiroth took up a roll of bandages and found its end, then began to wrap it around the blonde's arm with an ease only years of practice could give. The man's arm was bulkier than perhaps it should have been for his tiny frame - training with the Buster Sword would do that to a person, he supposed. But even more than that, Sephiroth noticed that it was tense: it seemed that the blonde had trouble resting, even for a moment.

"Cloud," he began after a moment, eyes never leaving the other soldier's arm, "Relax your arm. Doing otherwise may injure the muscles further."

"I know," the blonde responded, giving a small laugh that seemed like it meant something of an unhappier nature. "Sorry. It's just - I guess it's not everyone who gets their arm wrapped by ShinRa's Silver General, huh?"

"No," Sephiroth agreed, finishing that wound and moving on to the other man's chest, "That is a privilege granted to few men." He felt Cloud stiffen even more at those words, and wondered what he'd said wrong.

There was a moment during which only the sounds of the bandage unrolling could be heard.

"I see," the blonde murmured after a moment. "What… makes me one of those men?"

Ah. So this was the problem.

"I don't know. Perhaps it is luck." There was a pause, and Sephiroth could practically feel the man deflate. "I, however, prefer to think that it is because -" He took a breath, searching for the words " - you have earned the right to call me your friend, if you wish."

The sound of breathing was almost deafening for a heartbeat, two.

"Oh." Another beat. "…Really?"

The general finished up the bandage with a quick knot, and looked up at Cloud's face - the man seemed like he might never have been more surprised in his life. Sephiroth was left paralyzed for a moment, unsure of what to do.

_Think. Zack is good with people - how would he handle a situation like this?_

Without really thinking about it beforehand, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the younger man. There was too much awkwardness in that one motion - it was, perhaps, too raw, too sudden, too unexplained; but it was something.

Then the door swung open.

"Hey, Cloud? I…" And Zack was left speechless, staring at them as they sprung apart - but it took only seconds for the look of astonishment to turn into a mischievous grin. "No, no, don't mind me - I'll just let you two get back to what you were -"

"Zack," Sephiroth growled, only half serious, "I'm going to hurt you now."

"Hey, no, don't hurt me," Zack laughed, taking a step back. "Cloud, defend me!"

"You're on your own this time," the blonde responded, watching from the bed with a sparkle in his eye.

That one moment was, perhaps, broken - but it had been there. And now, perhaps, it would be easier to find again. It would be less awkward, the next time, and less the time after - and again, until it was as comfortable as anything. That would be a while, for the both of them - but something told Sephiroth that it would be worth it.

XXX

"Come on," Sora began, taking off at a trot down the burgundy-carpeted hallway, "I want you to meet my brother." This would also be the part when the brunette begged Axel to let them stay in Cyprus for a little bit longer. Maybe for quite a while longer; running around Europe could get pretty lonely when your brother wasn't paying much attention to anything but his stick-thin lover. It would be nice to stay in a place where he'd have friends again.

"He the one who's been impersonating me?" Riku asked with less annoyance than was probably deserved. He didn't look a bit out of place in a venue like this - but then, these ritzy hotels had been built for men like him.

"Yeah," the younger responded sheepishly, slowing down so he could have a proper conversation with the other boy. "We're both here with our bodyguard Axel -"

"Bodyguard? Why do you need a bodyguard?"

_Crap. I'm really not too good at this whole "secrets" thing, am I, _Sora thought to himself with a sigh.

"Um… no reason. You just can't ever be too careful, right?"

The brunette avoided his friend's upcoming question expertly by trotting to his door and knocking on it quite loudly. Much to his disappointment, there was no answering noise from behind it - in fact, everything was rather disturbingly silent.

"Hey, Rox?" Sora called, knocking on the door again - when there was no answer, he began to rustle around in his pocket for his own copy of the key. "Alright then, I'm coming in!"

This elicited some noise from the other side of the door, finally.

"No, wait! I'm coming," came Roxas's muffled, and notably irritated, voice. "What are you doing here, anyway?" he asked, voice getting louder as his steps could be heard across the floor.

"I'm here to steal your brother from you," Riku responded with a grin, ignoring Sora's squawk of indignation.

There was a moment of silence before the hitch of the door unlocking could be heard. The door opened slightly to reveal Roxas on the other side, looking like he was about to kill - and, the brunette noticed, only partially clothed. A quick glance over the blonde's shoulder revealed Axel in a similar state of disarray, though with markedly less clothing on his person.

Roxas stared, fuming, at first one, then the other, as the expressions on the intruders' faces turned from surprise to horror. The silence grew awkward quickly.

"To steal my brother?" A beat. "Take him," Roxas growled, and slammed the door in both of their faces.

There was a long moment, during which Sora tried and failed to collect his thoughts.

"So…" Riku began, breaking the silence with his sharp grin, "He's your… bodyguard. Is that what they're calling it these days? Well, I guess they're guarding bodies in a manner of speak-"

"Shut up, Riku," Sora squeaked, completely not ready to have a discussion on euphemisms with _anyone, _much less with someone he'd only just met. Or someone who had kissed him not three hours prior. He was fairly certain that his face was turning scarlet, but there was very little he could do about that at this point.

Maybe he'd look back on it later and this would be funny. He was pretty certain that it would be hilarious, actually - but right now it was just potently embarrassing.

"I'm going to have to deal with you making lewd jokes _all_ the way back to your house, aren't I?"

"Hell yeah." Riku responded with a laugh, as they turned together to walk down the hallway.

Even with that moment of embarrassment, this was pretty ok. They'd go back to Riku's beach, and they'd fence with each other again and again until they were exhausted - then they'd find Roxas and they'd all laugh about it together. Six months down the road, maybe they'd pick up and leave, maybe they wouldn't - it was hard to tell. But one way or another, it was good - and considering everything that had happened, Sora was grateful for every moment.

Even with the barely-healed scar on the brunette's shoulder that he'd catch Riku staring at every so often, or the way Roxas's arm still hurt when it rained, every one of them had been impossibly, wonderfully lucky.

Maybe they hadn't deserved their bad luck, and perhaps their good luck was far more than anyone could possibly have asked for. Maybe good people had died and bad ones had lived. Maybe none of them deserved forgiveness for the things they had done, and maybe they did - but that wasn't really anyone's place to decide.

It just went to show that life never had a giant balancing sheet, where good deeds were checked off against bad ones until you came up with your final tally - and that was probably for the best. Life proceeded as it would, oblivious to any one person's crimes or virtues.

Anyone could only do the best that they could with what life had given to them, and no-one would ever know if that was enough.

None would ever know, perhaps, but they could hope.

XXX

XXX

Oh. My. God.

I have spent the last eight months of my life writing this thing, and it's finally _done_. I can honestly tell you that I never thought I was going to make it through this. I'm _so happy_ that I have. I hope that you guys enjoyed it too.

On another note, _I am so sorry_ about this sixteen _thousand_ word behemoth of a chapter. I'm sure it wasn't what you were expecting, either, was it? *laughs* Well, I don't like doing what people expect me to, and the end was planned from the very first chapter.

Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ for following me this far. It means worlds and worlds to me. I would never, ever have been able to do it without you.

And I say this now with more emphasis than I've said it ever before: Please, please, if you read and liked I would be _so happy_ if you'd give me a comment, especially if you've put this baby on your favorites list (which I heartily appreciate, by the way).

Thank you so much. I love you all.


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